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A couple of months ago I was walking down to the corner to pick up a bottle of something from the Liquor store. For some reason it reminded me of an event that happened when I was in High School. Something I’d never talked to anyone about or even really thought of since it happened. I wrote a quick piece about it, but never did anything with it. I forgot about the piece and the event until a few days ago. Again I’m not sure what prompted the memory, probably just thinking about writing and what I could potentially populate the new blog with.

About seven or eight years ago, when I was in High School, I was on an Advisory Board for my school. This school was founded by hippies and so is a bit focused on getting parents, students, and teachers involved in some of the decisions on the direction of the school.  This Advisory Board met in the evening twice a month. After one of these meetings, in the middle of winter, I was standing out in front of the school waiting for my dad to pick me up (this was before I could drive). The snow was falling down in large wet flakes, the sky was dark, but there was enough snow on the ground reflecting the street lights that everything was bathed in amber light. As I stood waiting I could see a man and woman walking down the street toward me. When they got closer I could see that the woman was several years younger than the man. He was wearing a hat, he had a silver and black beard, and he never said a word. The woman was wearing a warm colored jacket and had a black eye.

The woman started talking to me, about the cold and the snow. Nothing particularly interesting. I was pleasant and avoided looking at her shiner. She noticed, because people always notice when you’re trying to avoid looking at something.

“He didn’t do this to me.” She said, pointing at the old man. She told me it was her husband and the old man was her father.

“Someone should teach him a lesson.” She said. “I’d be willing to pay someone to take care of him. You don’t know someone who could do that, do you?”

The way she looked at me, I could tell she was asking me if I wanted the job. I shrugged it off and laughed nervously, telling her I didn’t know anyone who could help her. We exchanged a few more pleasant comments, said goodbye and she left.

I never saw her again and, like I said, didn’t tell anyone about it or think about it for quite sometime. Thinking about it now, I wonder if she ever found someone who would take her money to teach her husband that lesson.

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