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Last night I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain.  The last part was a re-play of a moment I shared with Ally.  Feeling unsettled, I decided to go for a drive.  For some reason though I felt the need to dress up.  So I pulled on my good jeans, my Fryes and a long-sleeved shirt.  I got into my Honda Element and starting driving down Old Stockbridge.

First en route Victorias, then realized I forgot my wallet.  Back to Mayfair, then the other direction out on Route 108 to Boones Farm.  I had a little cash.  I thought “I wonder if Rita’s is open? … probably not, so when it’s not I’ll just go on to take softserve to Ma and Pete.”  I pulled down St Johns Lane and the Rita’s lights were on, so I pulled in.

Since my eyeglasses popped out one of their lenses yesterday I looked creepy wearing my prescription sunglasses at 9-something o’clock at night.  I bought three small cups of swirl custard, and one large large cone of the same.

I spied a planter with a yucca-looking bush in it.  I walked over, brushed the fronds aside and lowered the cone into the heart of the cactus.  I started for the car to go to Boones.  Occurred to me, and I reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed The Art of Racing in the Rain.

I walked back over to the planter and placed the book, cover-facing out with its dog’s face looking-out from over the rim of the wooden-barrel-stave planter.