Another cold November day. Another early Saturday morning train ride to work. As usual, no seats, so I leaned against the wall and pulled Healing Your Broken Heart: A Journey to Freedom out of my bag. The cover showed a blonde bimbo sticking a plastic-looking broken heart back together. A rope lay strewn around the bottom, encircling the author’s name, Mandy Tippin. Seriously? What a melodramatic cover.
I felt an immediate disgust for this author. I know book covers are designed to attract attention. They even strategically placed her picture to point her effusive cleavage, most likely surgically enhanced, toward the heart. What a bold move for a Christian book.
And did I detect dark roots beneath those immaculately styled golden tresses? Ah yes, I did. Figured. Blonde from a bottle. Fake like the rest of her. She looked like a plastic person, a dolly girl with impossibly long red nails, dyed hair, air-brushed make-up, and an exaggerated phony smile that never made it past her lips to those calculating, hooded hazel eyes. She brought out an immediate sense of distrust in me.
Meow, must have taken my catty pills this morning. A six pack of mice and a pitcher of cream to go, please. Who am I to judge her just because she was maybe five pounds above being the perfect size to be a model?
I was about to flip the book over and read the back-cover blurb when I heard a woman ask, “What chapter are you on?”
People so seldom spoke to strangers here that I looked around to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone else.
“Haven’t started yet. I just borrowed it from a friend. What about you?”
“I’m almost done with it. I got dumped last month. When I saw the book on the new arrivals table at the bookstore, I thought I might as well pick it up.”
Several women observed us with interest, peering over newspapers or novels. Some pretended not to be paying attention at all, but I knew they were. I’m an experienced eavesdropper. They looked like a roomful of youngsters with their hands up waiting for the teacher to call on them. Pick me! Pick me! One by one they joined in the conversation; all but one had read or was currently reading it. The one who didn’t own it proclaimed that she might need to get it soon if things didn’t improve with her current lover.
What an amazing ride. I had never experienced something like this in the big city. Only two passengers knew each other, but in minutes, they all shared a common bond. A great story in the making for me.
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