On Sunday, David and I walked into the town pharmacy. The teenager behind the counter turned around, saw me, and said, “Wow.”
I smiled at him; it was the least I could do for someone so taken with me.
“I thought you were my mother,” he said.
My smile faded immediately.
I calmly replied, “I hope you’re referring to a young floozy your father recently married and not the woman who originally spawned you.”
He shook his head, “No.”