It all started when we got home and I looked at the receipt before filing it in the crap drawer. Usually I obsess so much during the signing part of the payment process that there's never any surprise but something made me look over this particular piece of paper and at the bottom it stood out like it was done in dayglow - Sales: Annalise. I only ever heard that name once before and it was when Lisa Wozinski, AKA the Wagonpuller told me her Mom wanted to name her Annalise but her father said uh-uh. The salesgirl was a cutie, maybe a little too goth for my classic leanings but she did look familiar. Lisa would be about 45 - 48 about now old enough to have a 20ish daughter so I thought about it and decided to head back to the store after making up this lame excuse that I might have left my Yankees cap there. When I walked in the door the only other person in front of the register was turning to leave so I said, "excuse me, Miss" so the girl wouldn't go towards the back area, "by any chance is your mother's name Lisa?" She paused and said "how do you know that?" I stared at her eyes and could see the likeness immediately. What followed was too bizarre, too fateful to explain here using coincidence or chance as the reason. Dave pushed away the keyboard and stood up to stretch his tired legs. Ever since last week when he walked towards the wall looking up at the roofers then fell into the spa boucing heavily off the top step, he'd get these tingling sensations on the top of his head and be ever more convinced with each one that his life was being simulcast on the public access channel of Dewey Cable a la The Truman Show. Connie could see him walking around with that slightly exasperated look he only recently began wearing and asked him "are you OK fat bastard?" to which Dave said softly "in the middle of a soft white dream lies a truculent conductor with a nametag partially covered with a torn picture of Ronald Reagan in front of a 20 mule team borax wagon" so Connie laughed and turned off his computer.