at the PO in El Prado

I'm second in line at the Post Office. "How can I help you?" says Francine, the woman behind the counter. The man ahead of me steps forward.

"Give me two Daffy Ducks and a prostate cancer, please."

A year hence, Francine would become a writing student of mine at the local college, but neither of us knew it then. I watched her slide the stamps across the counter and count his change carefully into her hand.

"Say hi to your wife, Bennie," she called after him, then turned to me with a calm smile. "How can I help you?"