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In darkness I picked up a couple at a Motel 6 and dropped them at a Dollar Store. The gal moved slowly, as if to be around eighty but on closer observation probably around forty maybe fifty. A weathered hand tattoo showed the world she once had it by the tail or another appendage. As I opened the back for her walker she gave a grateful smile and a warm, “Thank you.”

For a moment I stared. For a minute she made me think of my deceased friend Dori; and not just because she looked like her.


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