On the way to the post office, the driver suddenly stops with a exclamation of dismay, and makes to turn the car around.
I realize he thinks he's going the wrong way, and I reassure him that we're on the right street, going the right way.
"I usually work in Manhattan," he says apologetically, turning to drive up the avenue, the way I originally told him to go.
"We'll get through this together," I say.
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One year ago: Revenge
Two years ago: Cancer and Entropy
Three years ago: Making Friends These Days
Four years ago: A Block is About 100 Steps
Seven years ago: Bad Mood Meanderings
Ten years ago: A New York Moment
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