She was standing at the passenger side of Mama Jan’s car, asking for any cash she could spare to help her get to her stepfather’s funeral tomorrow in Texas.

I had been in Walmart purchasing a few things and, as I rounded the corner of Mama Jan’s car, incidentally on the same side she was on, she looked up at me.

Leaving her hand extended to Mama Jan for whatever cash she was about to hand over, she began to tell me the same thing and started to ask me for cash.

But then she stopped, mid-sentence, and her gaze flicked between Mama Jan and me.

“Oh,” she said, “You are the same person.”

And I really liked that description of us.