If you read Dear Abby even rarely, you’ve come across a Pennies from Heaven anecdote. Somebody dies. Somebody who misses the dead person lives and finds a penny. Maybe the penny is from the year of the dead person’s birth, death or wedding–first kiss–last barbecue–you name it. The finder feels connected to the dead person, sure that somehow s/he put the penny there for him/her to find. Um, no comment. I’m more of a believer in Cigarette Smoke from Hell. I’m in a restaurant or an outdoor concert or walking outside any government building and the scent of cigarette smoke overcomes me. I know who that’s from, oh yeah. For some reason, Dear Abby hasn’t printed one of my charming stories.

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