‘They’re kisses’ she said. ‘Made out of clouds for you’
‘No grandma’ I replied. ‘They’re clouds that happen to be
shaped like crosses’
‘Now then young Michael. How can you be sure that’s the case
and those are not kisses blown to you by god?’
‘I can’t be sure Grandma, but I’m just assuming it’s
unlikely’
‘Michael. Those are kisses to you from god’
‘Well that’s good of him Grandma. What a nice guy’
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