~
It was hot. Having left my attention at the post office or, at least somewhere en-route, it wasn’t until he was standing right in front of me that I realised I was in the way. I looked up and smiled; he nodded. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs that I realised the new facial hair. I should’ve said something, I thought, that’s the kind of thing that starts conversation. No, I stopped myself, he might think that’s flirtatious. I caught my bedraggled, frizzy-haired reflection in the glass door and laughed to myself, thinking of the grey haired figure that was retreating. No, I don’t suppose any exchange between us could ever be construed as flirtatious.
~
No comments:
Post a Comment