From the somber look of the face of young gal working today, I knew it was bad.
The other lady that works here?
Yes. It was her son.
I didn’t know her name. I didn’t put it all together.
His mom, Paula, should have been behind the counter working this morning. Instead she is planning a funeral.
I looked at the young gal working. I talk to her often. She’s a delightful young lady who is an extremely talented artist. She’s planning on attending a local university in the fall to further hone her drawing and painting skills.
And you? I asked her.
Her name is Daisy.