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On the way out of the bookstore today, I noticed the baby-pink signs over the front displays that advertised the company's Mother's Day sales and suggestions. My first, microsecond-delayed thought was "Shit, I have to go Mother's Day shopping. And mom's birthday is sometime soon too."

A heatbeat, or many, many microseconds later, another thought occured to me: "Oh."

A few minutes pass, and I've walked through half the Underground which remains between me and way back into the Peel metro-station. In Les Cours de Montreal, I walk past a pair that my eyes mistake for Kerri and Fiona -- only the girl obviously isn't tall enough to be thirteen years-old. The reasonableness of that logic didn't prevent me from walking back and looking again.

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