He was an older man in a starched, white shirt, nice slacks and a smart tie. She was young with long, auburn hair, a brown, flowing hippie-chick shirt and thin, brown pants that gripped her firmly at the top and flared out at the ankles. He wore polished wingtips. She wore stringy sandals. He was small and mousy with close, grey hair and a clipped mustache. She was tall, slender and glowy. She floated just above the ground. He was planted firmly upon it, rooted even.
"You look familiar for some reason," he said, smiling timidly. He was obviously terrified by her.
"Oh," she said, returning his smile and matching his timidity. "I can't imagine from where." She was terrified also, but for vastly different reasons.
He drove away in a grey Buick, east, and she in a brown Jeep, west. I'd like to think it worked out between them, but something tells me it did not.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
