Sometimes, stories happen to me.
I picked up my neighbor’s prescriptions at the Hannaford.
Dropped them off at his house and he wrote me a check for a substantial amount of money to pay for the medicine. On the way home, I stopped at the bank, presented the check to Jon, the teller.
He walked away, then came back to the window with a funny look on his face:
“If I didn’t know you better . . . , " he said, and held up the check.
In the lower left hand corner, where you write the purpose of the check, my neighbor had written, “Drugs.”