Having my Sunday morning coffee at Starbucks on the corner of Western and Glenoaks Boulevard in Glendale I ran into the most unlikely reader of my stories, Hungarian Gypsy fortune teller, Madam Sophia. “You look familiar, son,” she said:” Oh, I know, I read your boxing stories in the Examiner.”
“You like boxing?” I asked, astonished.
“I like your stories,” she said:” But more than that, I like the aura in your stories.”
“You know, I am a third generation extra sense and I can tell the future,” said Madam Sophia making herself comfortable in a seat next to me with a hot cup of java:” What would you like to know, my son? This one is on the house.”