As we chatted my vision stretched to our neighbors. I can’t help it. I’m a writer, and they stood out. She was twenty something and vibrant. Her face was on the plain side, but her breasts emphasized by a tight t-shirt were nicely rounded and perky. He was a jerk. What can I say. Probably in his fifties, weathered face and hardened eyes.He smelled foul.
But he was chatting her up big time, and she was soaking it in. Then she started talking, rambling on about her family problems. He listened as if she was dispensing pearls of wisdom from a sacred text. I couldn’t, thank goodness, hear the whole conversation, but when they got up to leave they spoke louder.
“I’ve really enjoyed our conversation,” she said eyes sparkling. “I can’t talk about these things to most people. I hope you stop by…”
“It’s been really good,” he said with rattlesnake eyes that didn’t leave her face.
They part. I breath a sigh of relief. Pulease woman…he’s a guy, an old wrinkly smelly guy…what on God’s Green Earth do you think he wants from you.
She leaves with a skip in her step and looks over her shoulder at him. OMG wake up sweetheart.
Two minutes after she’s gone, he stands outside on the corner of the street surveying the crowd…looking for another.
Sometimes it’s hard to be an older woman:)