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A couple of men stumble out of a bar and bump into me

“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” they yell at s onHer

“That’s right You don’t want nonna this,” one slurs, his drunken voice echoing into the night

Her footsteps pitter patter faster as she picks up speed, obviously hearing the men but like someone who’s familiar with this kind of lifestyle she wisely doesn’t look back over her shoulder, just keeping her head and eyes forward andfor sixbeen forgotten about

She’s got street smarts I like that, but I hate that she’s lived a life that’s required her to build up this kind of knowledge, this kind of tough outer shell, even though I’lad she finds a way to sht side each and every day in that diner where she works

I know because I’ve suddenly developed an addiction to having steak and eggs with a coffee black, three ive el each day

And that’s what she is, an angel My angel And I’hts sheto

I swear it’s like divine intervention, or some other nonsense Hallarbage, or at least it was until I finally understood what it all s within me for the first time in my thirty-seven years

My age, three followed by seven, again…divine intervention Three and seven are the most frequently chosen numbers as lucky numbers, and it can’t be a coincidence that this happened to e

God, I can’t believe I even s like that in ’s just sopossible

How to tell her she belongs toher to call the cops the moment she looks into my eyes and sees the possessiveness behind them

She stops and I freeze in place, wideningforward Her pace is always brisk, but not now There’s no reason for her to be acting this way

My nostrils flare and I subconsciously take in ht to the death for her if someone, anyone, is in her way My stance widens and my eyes scan the area, until they finally lock onto the problem

“The purse, bitch Hand it over and nobody gets hurt”

The voice is attached to a douchebag coht fro in his hand It’s not even a proper knife, uy is desperate and won’t stop at anything to get his hands on her purse…and maybe more