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My husband got a good one. “You will soon achieve perfection.” Funny thing, since last I checked he still hadn’t found nirvana. Wafer-cookie torn in two along the crease, a tongue of folded paper forks out lucky numbers, but I don’t Lotto. I turn the message over and over in my mind. “Maybe in next century you can live on moon.” I hope by then I’ve moved on to something else. My husband thinks I “live on moon” now - has fortune smiled upon me, or just spat in my eye? |