Segue

I sat shivering in the air conditioner that I had not yet readjusted to after five months in France as I watched my-movie-star-thin mother eat her tofu stir fry microwave dinner while contemplating my question.

“You need a segue,” she said at last.

“A what?” 

Laughter ensued.

“Not that kind of Segway,” my mom replied.  “a literary segue.  Something to connect the last phase of your blog into the next one.  Journalists use them all the time."

I considered this.

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Thank you for joining us at let felicity fly: stories from a dreamer.  Tune in next time for our latest installment jam-packed with literary something-or-other-ness.  In other words, I think I might have fun with this.