Fortunately for James his car was exactly where he thought he left it. The waitress from the night walked away smoking a cigarette. The radio was playing a song by The Smiths. The sun was high in the sky. A bird was eating the seeds blown to the ground by the majestic oak tree across the street from the drugstore owned by Mr. Andrews who was rearranging a Bayer aspirin display in the front window, while little girls played hopscotch while listening to The Smiths on the radio. James turned on this cellular phone and called Sue his wife at home. She answered the phone in a sleepy voice and James could hear the clock radio playing The Smiths. Chance, you say. Maybe…maybe not.