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Show Coffee Drinkers Preferred Page 125 of 307 She crossed northbound and I waited for the westbound light, watching her smooth and purposeful gate. She wore a hip length 1960s cut leather coat with a knee length creme colored dress underneath and comfortable looking bright orange heels. At the next block she walked diagonally through the mostly empty intersection and sat down at a bus stop on the corner, crossed her legs and pulled a book out of her bag to wait for the bus. She hadn't seen me. I turned and was startled to spot an advertisement that featured two ants standing atop a pile of skulls. They were talking to each other via cans and a taught string. Ants, skulls and tin cans? I didn't have time to even begin to figure out what the ad was for. I casually walked back the other direction, the cell phone still pressed to my ear like I was just another jerk who could not stand six seconds of silence. When I got to the street where my car was parked I raced to it. I pulled out and gunned down the block, starting to make my way back to where Sariah was waiting for a bus. I pulled into a parking spot behind a tiny Miata about fifty feet from where she was still sitting. I had worked mostly in bookstores, writing centers and classrooms since I had turned sixteen. And, of course, as one of the boys in my ward, I had done yard work and helped hundreds of neighbors load moving trucks. None of the work I had ever done |