Abigail in Love (Maybe)

"You know what I'm thinking right now?" the cabbie asked me.

"You're thinking: What I wouldn't do for a cigarette!" I guessed.

“You just met someone!” the woman said to me with the kind omniscience only possible in dreams.

I told her I had. I was excited!

“Well, he is going to make you sad!” she said.

“Are you the Abigail Pickus who writes the singles’ column for the Jewish Week?”

Which is another way of saying, Yes I am!

Which is yet another way of saying, here I was at a party in Tel Aviv, nestled on the couch next to some girlfriends when all of a sudden who approaches but a fan?

Fans, actually, because there were two of them. A husband and wife team.

Which is all another way of saying, I practically threw myself into their arms, weeping with joy.

I didn’t even know anyone was reading me.

You know how a certain image just gets burned in your memory?

Here’s one of mine.

A bunch of years ago, when I worked at a library in Chicago, a colleague came into my office. She was in her mid-30s, very lovely, and had had a tough time finding her missing link.