Under the Ashes

Kirsten was a sensitive, so people said. Mostly old women. When she was ten years old a bag-lady had followed her into British Home Stores and screamed that she was the spawn of the devil, and she was destined to burrrn in hell. Most kids would have been frightened, but not Kirsten. Supposedly she turned to the old woman, reached out and squeezed her crotch, and said

“Maybe you and me’ll get friendly there.”

with a smile older than her years. The bag-lady went pale and scrambled from the store, knocking over racks of blouses and slacks. Her mother, who was with her, was mortified, of course, and dragged her away.

Kirsten couldn’t recall the incident later. She didn’t remember the bag lady at all. Her mother was so concerned, she put her through hypnosis sessions. Not a trace.

Myself, I liked her. But nothing more.