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journey, but if things ever feel like they’re getting tough, hopefully these words will help:
    Patience in the Desert
    Stranded in a cryptic desert
    where answers are like water
    for a thirsty nomad who has walked for days.
    Dry sandstorms blow grains in her questing eyes,
    as she plods forward, bare feet scorched by the feverish earth.
    A minor clue would be like a hand to hold,
    like shoes to soothe her blistered feet,
    and a revelation would be rain to moisten this dire drought.
    Without a camel, oasis or plan,
    the voyager continues, bound to reach her answer,
    only to begin searching for another clue.
    “What a perfect birthday gift,” Belinda whispered, trembling as she held the paper to her heart.  Lenore wasn’t just a poet, she was a prophet.  This poem had come at the time when Belinda needed it most, and she was very grateful.  Raising her glass of champagne towards the Mediterranean Sea, Belinda silently toasted Lenore’s future success as a published writer.
    Gathering up the blanket and rising from the sand, Belinda took a lingering look at the sea.  The water shimmered ethereally in the waning afternoon sun.  Belinda grabbed a seashell and slid it into the pocket of her jeans: a small souvenir from the most unusual birthday she had ever experienced.  As she walked back to land, she took one last look at the water, squinting as a tall male silhouette strode through the waves.  Blinking, Belinda watched the male shadow like an apparition of the sea.  Was the shifting sun playing tricks on her eyes?  The powerfully structured figure of a merman walked towards her until it reached the water’s edge.  Then, the vision faded into the distance, and Belinda ran back to land, unsure of what she had just seen.

Chapter Four
    The next day, Jean-Jacques and Crystal deposited Belinda at the doorstep of her new apartment.  Eager for the nosy couple to be gone, Belinda assertively grabbed her bags from Jean-Jacques’ hand.
    Impatiently , she clipped, “Thanks for driving me! I think I can take it from here.”
    “No, let us help you bring your bags inside.”  Jean-Jacques protested, taking the suitcases back from Belinda.  “What floor are you on?”
    “The second floor.  Apparently I’m sandwiched between an old lady on the first floor and some young guy on the third.” Belinda rolled her eyes, already dreading the prospect of an upstairs neighbor.
    “Young guy? Maybe you’ll have to go upstairs and borrow a cup of sugar from him some time.” Crystal winked as Jean-Jacques snickered.
    “I’m a baker.  I ’ve got plenty of sugar,” Belinda said deadpan.  “Besides, the last thing I want is for people to start calling me a cougar!”
    “Oh no! You’re still too young to be a cougar.  I heard that only a woman over forty can have that label.  Women in their thirties who date younger men are pumas!” Crystal said laughingly as Jean-Jacques snorted until the sound morphed into a vicious hacking cough.
    “Well, I don’t want to be one of those either,” Belinda said darkly.  “Believe me, I’d love to find a man my own age.  That is, if there are any men my age who want to date a woman their age!” Belinda thought distastefully of her blind date in Boston and the creep’s asinine comment about how old she looked.
    “Oh, I’m sure there are plenty,” Crystal said encouragingly, although she wasn’t so sure. Jean-Jacques was nearly fifteen years her senior, and he had made it clear when they met that her younger age was an asset.
    “Anyway, as much as I’d love to stand here and have this inspiring discussion about age the day after my birthday, I really should get inside and get settled,” Belinda said, anxiously biting her inner cheeks.
    Without permission, Jean-Jacques waltzed in front of the ladies and carried the bags up to the second floor.  Belinda felt her face grow hot.
    “Well, I guess the secret’s already out.  I live in a dump,” Belinda said to no one in