She though maybe if she could pray to the patron saint of the impossible, light a candle in church, maybe everything would fix itself. On her lunch hour with ham and mustard on rye in one hand and her purse (with the necessary votive offering inside) in the other, she ran three blocks down to St. Elmo's.

She ran down the aisle of the empty church and froze. There were four statues of saints. She didn't know which one was patron of what, though she suspected St. Anthony was for little kids and animals. She panicked. She only had a single quarter in her purse.