Magazine

June 2011: Checked by the Chip Chick

My hand, gripping the letter, was literally shaking as I was consumed with the thought of a drink. Suddenly a faint whisper was heard...

I looked around the noon meeting in Quartz Hill, not recognizing a soul, yet feeling right at home. When the “chip chick” asked if there were any newcomers or folks attending this meeting for the first time, I raised my hand and introduced myself. I was first shocked, then chagrined to see her bustling toward me, holding out a shiny silver newcomer’s chip like it was adhesive and she was going to stick it on my forehead. I... Login to read more
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