On my first full day in Seattle, Jenni took me down to Pike Place so that I could absorb the ultimate in Seattle tourist offerings. It was good.
After walking for what felt like miles, we got back to the car and I opted to stay at it while Jenni went to fetch the rolled hanks of luxury yarn we'd purchased earlier in the day.
While I was there, a man of the street approached me, and since I wasn't engaged in anything particularly noteworthy, he and I struck up a conversation. He asked me for change for a dollar and while I was digging out 4 shiny quarters from the depths of my little handbag (there were definite depths), we talked about gum, gum ball machines, and laughed about nieces and nephews and his 8 grandchildren.
It was a nice visit.
He didn't stick around very long before he turned and meandered up the street talking to himself. I went back to leaning on the car and losing myself in thoughts.
Pretty soon though, he came back in my direction still muttering to himself. As he passed me by once more, he said to me,
"You. You are VERY special to someone."
And then continued to walk away until I couldn't see him anymore.
And I started to cry.
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