I overheard something a little chilling tonight.

In the parlor by the retirement community library, I was reading a book.
Two women sat down on a couch nearby and began talking earnestly, as though I were not there to hear.
One of the women claimed that she has been robbed twice since she moved here, describing what was taken -- jewelry, of course.
Somewhere in the conversation, the other woman remarked, "There are no secrets at [the retirement community]."
I haven't any jewelry to be robbed of. I don't dress that way;
the woman in question does dress up, though, especially for dinner.

I have days when I feel sorry for myself. I don't, after hearing that.