I saw Sad Girl again this evening, at a sub shop with her brother and father. She was... sad. I smiled and said hi, but didn't stop to chat, as the father looked straight at the floor, and Sad Girl doesn't seem to remember who I am (no reason she should; she and my Bean went to the same preschool, but Bean wouldn't recognize her mother, either). Sitting down with my dinner (ALONE! with a BOOK!), another family passed my table on their way out, and the mother was saying to her husband, "I decided to get it to go because that man with the two kids is INTOXICATED..." Hm. Maybe Sad Girl really has something to be sad about.
When I had a cat and no kids, I used to read the cat shelter column in the local paper, every kitty story in the news would catch my attention, and every cat in a parking lot made me wonder if she had a place to go home to. I used to have a recurring dream about abandoned kittens following me home. Now, of course, it's little girls that pull my heartstrings.
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