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P.F. Potvin

Outside the bank a wealthy woman fumbles the catch, splits out her umbrella,
pitches some pennies, then starts away in a hasty gait. She smiles because
the wind is down. But the rain, twice as harsh as before, keeps coming like
history in every street. Near the second crosswalk she raises her umbrella
another foot and Abe Lincoln struts under. The two share pace, walking quietly
until the third crosswalk where the woman breaks right and Abe, pulling his tall
hat down around his eyes, keeps rolling straight across. He thinks up a shortcut
though the rain and sneers back at the woman, all the wiser.

P.F. Potvin

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