Exchanging Paint Samples

I ran into a car today in the BigY Supermarket parking lot as I was leaving.
No, not true. A lady backed into me and hit my car on the back door. On my grey, no, silver Honda. Luckily she had a dirty silver car also.

I leapt out of my car, saying, I’m so sorry. With my gloved hand I rubbed at the grey dust on her car: a blotch of paint made powder. On my car was a similar smudge of powdery paint.

“What do you think,” she asked. I’d noticed her in the store. She was tall with frizzy grey hair. She had red leather gloves, red sneakers and a blouse with a red collar. Snazzy.

“There’s no pucks,” she said.

“It comes right off, I don’t care,” I said.

“My son-in-law can clean it. At least there’s no pucks.”

We parted smiling. What’s a puck?

The second edition of “Sleep–A Problem No More” is up next.


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