the crone

So I was just out on Church Ave. doing my Sunday marketing.  I went into one of the five and dime stores to buy a bunch of padded envelopes to mail my book in, and when I came out I made eye contact with a tiny crone sitting on the bench just outside the store. She had a kind of  black dyed pompadour and huge silver hoop earrings, a leathery face, cloudy eyes, and an interestingly large nose.

Crone:  Hey, you got a pretty face, c’mere, talk to me.

[I approach her]

Crone:  You Jewish?

Me:  Yes.

Crone:  You married?  Got kids?

Me:  My husband left me. No kids.

Crone:  When he leave you?

Me:  Two months ago.

Crone:  C’mere, sit down by me. [ I sit by her… she takes my hand… I notice she has some sort of flyers advertising fortune-telling or astrology in her other hand.]  I need a cup of coffee.

Me:  You want a dollar?

Crone:  A dollar’s not enough.  [I give her three dollars.  What the hell, I think.] Your husband cheating? He with someone else?

Me:  Yeah.

Crone:  He still think about you.  He with someone else but he still think about you.

Me:  I don’t want him back.

Crone:  He do it again and again.  He Jewish?

Me:  No.

Crone:  You give me money for candles, I pray for you tonight, I light candles. Money not for me, it for candles.

Me:  No, that’s OK.  Can I take your picture?

Crone:  No, I don’t like that.  Why you want take my picture?

Me:  Because you’re interesting.

Crone:  Anyway I pray for you tonight.  Be healthy, be happy.

Me:  OK.

[and I go on my way]