Ginny got the folks at Wal-Mart to put in a new watch battery. After they installed it, they gave her the square-inch “box” and told her to pay for it up front. No one in Philadelphia would be naive enough to do that.
I’m virtual freelance editing on the second floor of the Enterprise Public Library and start downstairs for a break. An early-teenage black girl says, “Sir? Sir?” and asks me to point her to the shelf that has the book she’s looking for. I do my best and leave. When I come back up, I see her about to go downstairs and ask, “Did you find it?” With a tone of voice that lets me know the conversation has already gone on longer than she’d like, she says, “Yes, sir.” Not “Yeah.” “Sir.”
Ginny and I took a long walk around Nate and Courtney’s neighborhood. I went barefoot and wasn’t cold.
I could live down here.
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