Part 19

"Then where are you going?"

"Back home, why?"

"And then where are you going?"

"Well, oh, I get it. Then I'm going to rise in the firm and become president."

"And then where will you go?"

"I guess eventually I'll retire. Say, you feeling all right? You seem a little strange."

"But after you retire, where will you go?"

"Well, we all die eventually, so I guess I'll wind up at the cemetery."

"And then where will you go?"

"I get it. You're one of those religious fanatics, right? I think you'd better find another ride. You can get out here."

"Okay, I'm going. But I see you don't know where you're going, either."

"Yes, I do. I'm going to San Diego."

Semiotics Strikes Out

It so happened in heaven one day that two souls who had been friends in their college years on earth met after long lives apart. After a few minutes of joyous reunion and recounting of their lives, one of the souls realized that they were now in a place where all hearts can be revealed, and where they no longer needed to hide anything.

"You want to hear something funny, Lissa?" the soul said. "Back when we were young, I really loved you. Not having you for my wife is the one great regret of my earthly existence. Pretty silly, huh?"

"Not at all," said Lissa. "I always secretly loved you, too, and hoped against hope that someday you might notice me."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was too shy. But I sent you hints."

"Hints?"

"Yes, like the brownies I gave you that rainy day in the student union."

"Oh, or like the chocolate-chip cookies you gave me that one time?"

"Well, no, those were only cookies. I was just being friendly. But that Christmas when I gave you a coffee mug. That meant I loved you."

"Oh, I know. That thank-you note you wrote when I fixed your sink you signed, 'Love ya special.' That was a hint, huh?"

"Actually, I signed all my cards and notes that way, so I was just thanking you then. But remember that note I wrote where I called you a 'weird monster man'? Boy, how I loved you then. I wish you'd responded."

"I thought maybe that meant you didn't like me. I never was good at hints. I remember thinking a few times that some girl was hinting that she liked me but when I would ask her out or mention romance, she'd always look shocked and be dumbstruck with disbelief that I could ever have thought she'd be interested in me." And here the soul sighed, as only souls can sigh.

"Well, why didn't you just say something to me, like, 'I love you'?" asked Lissa.

"I was afraid. And I didn't want to risk destroying our friendship by producing unwelcome romantic overtures. And besides, I sent you hints, too."

"Your overtures, as you call them, wouldn't have been unwelcome. But what do you mean you sent me hints?"