. if that all meant what I THOUGHT it meant . . . where was MY body? "Where . . ." taking a deep breath, I asked "Where is he?" Still trying to sooth... my husband's wounded feelings, Veronica asked "Who?" Damn - how was I gonna explain this? "Ah, young guy," I replied, "Dark hair, wearing a purple t-shirt, black shorts, and black sandals." As my fat ass slid off the stool with a sickening squelch, I began peering over the machines, trying to get my bearings. "You goddamned hussy!" Pulling. I leaned closer, our shoulders brushing, and he pointed out the saint's image and the X-shaped cross below."He's the patron saint of sailors. A lot of guys wear 'em on board ship. I used to have one, but the cord broke and I lost it somewhere after I got out. I keep meaning to replace it, but I've never gotten around to it." He turned the silver disk over and looked at the tag on the back. "I might have to come back."I thought how lovely the medallion would look, nestled just below the hollow. More

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