What could I possibly need at the Lenox Square mall? Or afford, for that matter.
And yet here I was in a posh department store, trying to avoid salesladies spritzing French perfumes that probably cost more than my monthly rent. All because of a voice.
I’d been in my car, running errands and minding my own business, when I first heard it. Clear as a bell. “Go to Lenox!” I slammed on my brakes and looked over my shoulder in case someone had jumped into the backseat. But I was alone in the car. It’s just stress, I told myself. I was a private-duty nurse, out of work for six months and looking for a new job. I took a deep breath, tried to clear my head. The voice came back. Again and again. Not sure what else to do, I turned my car around and drove 30 miles to the Lenox Square mall. Or, as we locals referred to it, Lenox.
This story is from the Oct/Nov 2017 edition of Mysterious Ways.
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This story is from the Oct/Nov 2017 edition of Mysterious Ways.
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