Just Bad Enough
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They say the good die young.
Does this mean the bad will live a long, hearty life? How bad must one be to live forever?
And what about the ugly?
I was thinking about this while patiently waiting at the dentist for a check-up.
Ten minutes earlier, an elderly Nicaraguan lady who was sitting next to me had pointed at my refreshingly cold water bottle. I still struggle to understand Nicaraguan Spanish, but I gathered she wanted to know where I bought the water, and if the shop was close by.
My Spanish is still terrible, but sufficient, so I explained to her that the shop was just a few doors down.
It’s intensely hot here these days, especially in the concrete cities that we have to drive into when the week calls for more adulting and less beaching.
Grandmotherly and wrinkled in her countenance, the elderly woman continued to sit next to me in the heat, her long skirts folded around her. The temperature was too high for long skirts. I decided to just go buy a bottle of water for her. Leaving the hot lobby, I stepped out into the hotter street -certain I’d be back before the dentist called me to her chair.