I Chose To Pray

I put the few things on the counter in the Rite-Aid, some throat lozenges and patent medicines for this and that.  The young lady behind the counter passed them by the reader and totalled my bill.  It was about thirty-two dollars.

“You’ll have to pay,” my wife said.  “I don’t have any money with me.”

As  she took my credit card the young lady said with a smile, “My boy friend is always doing that to me.”

“We’re married,” said my wife, “so it’s alright.”

“We’re living together,” the young lady brightly answered, “but I wish he’d let me know he’s not carrying any money with him before he does that.”

“It’s not the same,” I heard my wife say.

“No, not by a long shot,” I was thinking as I turned and we walked out the door.  I didn’t know whether to cry or pray.

I chose to pray.

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