The other day, I tried not to stare at the woman with long, scraggily hair streaked thickly with dull iron gray. She was studying the meat, the chicken, the rows of sausages at the store. I could see how she calculated the cost, how she looked at the prices and set them next to what was in her dollar store purse. It was sad. I finally looked away. I imagined that she felt she didn't belong on the pretty aisle.
"I am so lonely, but I know there is a plan. There must be. I can muscle through my life until the next move is clear. I miss you all so much. I am alone for most of the time. It's just me and the cats and dogs. Nobody comes up. Nobody stops by. It's not like it used to be -- so full of life. Perhaps I'll move down there with you. But not now. There is a plan, and I must follow it. I must follow it even though it's too quiet around here."
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