diary / by Edward Mullany


I was in a drugstore, in the aisle where the greeting cards are kept, looking for a card for someone whose birthday isn’t far off, when a person who isn’t this someone, but who knows them like I do, as all three of us are related, called me on my phone, to say hello and to see how I was doing, which isn’t unusual, but in fact is quite normal, so that I began talking to this person as I stood there, browsing, until, after a while, I happened to mention where I was, and what I was doing, and how difficult the task seemed to be, or how difficult I seemed to have made it, which caused the person to laugh, and to ask me to describe for her some of the cards I was considering, in case she might narrow down the possibilities, which I didn’t think would be worth the effort, for I wasn’t in a talkative mood, though after I’d resigned myself to it, after she’d insisted, I discovered she was right, that she was able to help me choose one, and that doing so had cheered me up.