I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried all my tricks to get his attention and today might be my last chance.
This guy, the saddest looking Irish face I’d seen since I had to pick one out of a line-up, kept to himself, never speaking to anyone except the therapist we shared. I wanted to share more with this stand-offish private guy. Something about him appealed to me.Through the huge windows, I watched the February weather change from fluffy white clouds to gray to skitter across the sky chased by a strong wind blowing from East to West over the Hudson River. As I neared my car, a male voice heavy with an Irish brogue, called out saying, “Miss Campbell, wait up, an old man needs your help, don’t you know.”
“Old man indeed, what does that make me?”
“A tasty treat, indeed, I declare.”
Since when did I speak with an Irish brogue, I wondered.
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