This morning I found an extra set of Rosary beads, which I think I must’ve purchased from the gift shop at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, in Manhattan, earlier this summer, before A. and I left the city to drive out here to Cheyenne for the final or most recent time. The beads were in a little white paper sack with a couple of holy cards. I took the beads out of the sack and brought them with me when I drove to the coffee shop just now, in the Highlander, so that I could hang them from the rear view mirror. The cards I placed in two different rooms in the house, in locations where I thought a person’s gaze might sometimes land on them, in the course of a day.