VALERIE

OK, so I don't know that her name was really Valerie. I mean, I only have that name in my head because of the Zutons song "Valerie," which has taken hold of my heart and mind. So anyway. But I imagine her name was Valerie, so- Yeah.

Yesterday, I met the greatest lady in the world. I'd gone to my 11:30am dentist appointment (ALSO, I HAVE RECEDING GUMS!! WHAT THE FUCK!??!?!), and I walked into the office and removed my headphones. Suddenly, a mid-50s African-American lady with graying braids appears beside me. In her hand is a small, compact, shiny silver object.

"Did you drop this?" she asked.

I looked down- IT WAS MY CELL PHONE. "I been chasing after you for blocks," she said with a giggle, "But you had those damn earphones on!" A small boy- let's called him Roger- appeared at her side and smiled. I was so grateful and charming and in love with Valerie and Roger that I stammered. I didn't have any word to express to them how nice they were and how 99% of New Yorkers would have seen me drop my phone and would have walked on thinking 'Douchebag.'

"Thank you SOOOOOO MUUUUUUUUCH," I finally spit out. "Oh my god. Thank you SOOO MUCH." Perhaps predicting that my next line was going to be "Have a great day, you angelic people," Valerie said, "OK, time to take my grandson for a milkshake" and disappeared.

Valerie. Roger. Kindness. Milkshakes. When I left the office later, listening to "Lost in the Supermarket" by The Clash and watching almost-pretty-looking clouds of pollen waft through the air, I thought how truly bad-ass Valerie is. If I ever seen her again, I'm going to kiss her square on the lips. If anyone sees her, warn her.

Have a good weekend! KEVIN.