I knew it would take me longer to get there but I really didn’t mind. The streets around my house would be lined with cars either moving at the posted 25 MPH speed limit, or not at all. But that was okay.
I knew Miss Shirley would be there at the crosswalk, the cheery octogenarian who last year tripped at a shopping mall and knocked out her front teeth. We didn’t see her for many months but every day the school children would ask, “How’s Miss Shirley?”
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