Tuesday, November 20, 2007

the Tissue Angel

After an uproarious dinner at Legal Sea Foods with my family of five, my wheelchair-bound grandfather and my grandfather's girlfriend Sue, we made our way to the elevator in order to descend to the depths of the parking lot.

As we were approaching our destination, my grandfather complained loudly about needing a tissue. Sue, exasperated, was searching in her purse to find him one when a 60-something woman with a shiny braid of gray hair appeared next to us, seemingly out of thin air.

"Oh, I've got a tissue," the Tissue Angel said, waving a blindingly white tissue in her hand. "It's unused - I promise. It doesn't have any germs on it or anything."

My grandfather's face lit up. "Thank you!" my dad exclaimed enthusiastically. (As always, my brother and I exchanged cynical looks.)

"I was just digging in my bag, but couldn't find it," Sue offered as an explanation as our merry band of eight crammed into the elevator.

"Doesn't that just sum up life?" the Tissue Angel said, wisely. "Still digging, but can't find it."

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