Ooh la la.
Before I begin today’s story though, I have to tell you that I just saw someone using a shop-vac on a cow, who was clearly enjoying itself. God bless small-town county fairs.
Kay. Back to the mist. And the romance. And stuff like that.
Last night, I was standing on a retaining wall.
(That is like, the most romantic place to be standing, like, ever, like, you know?)
But actually, the location didn’t matter so much, because I was looking out over a misty river, flowing like glass under the moon and the street lights and the nearby bridge, silver and black and partly hidden under its moonlit scarf of opaque humidity.
I may have been grinning like a total moron as I surveyed the scene, because I react in strange ways to beauty. I was also trying to see out of the back of my head to keep an eye on my bike, which was placed in an absolutely perfect position to be stolen by the shadowy young man who was walking across the bridge toward me.
As he came closer, I was torn between drinking in the loveliness and turning away for a moment to place a strong hand of ownership on my bike’s handles. However, as he passed, he murmered, “beautiful, isn’t it?” And walked on, noshing on a bowl of ice cream. I’d like to mention that, based on later deductions, he was out for the sole purpose of getting ice cream and going on a stroll in the dreamy twilight. Being alone, he could have had no other motive besides pure enjoyment of the night. Unless he’s a serial killer and was celebrating a little murder. But that seems extreme.
I was charming and witty as I usually am in unexpected social situations, and said, in a voice that resembled a guffaw in its blunt contrast to his quiet tones,
“SOO PRETTTYYY!”
Then he walked on and I waited a socially appropriate time (60.3 seconds) before following him. I lost his trail after he got in his car and left the ice cream shop, but I did get his license plate number. Now it’s only a matter of time.
(Because, obviously, he’s totally my soulmate.)
(Except...I have an uncomfortable feeling that, if my life were a rom-com, and if this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I would have fallen off the retaining wall and tumbled down to the river below, from which he would have rescued me and then bought me ice cream and we’d be married by now, at least.)
Before I begin today’s story though, I have to tell you that I just saw someone using a shop-vac on a cow, who was clearly enjoying itself. God bless small-town county fairs.
Kay. Back to the mist. And the romance. And stuff like that.
Last night, I was standing on a retaining wall.
(That is like, the most romantic place to be standing, like, ever, like, you know?)
But actually, the location didn’t matter so much, because I was looking out over a misty river, flowing like glass under the moon and the street lights and the nearby bridge, silver and black and partly hidden under its moonlit scarf of opaque humidity.
I may have been grinning like a total moron as I surveyed the scene, because I react in strange ways to beauty. I was also trying to see out of the back of my head to keep an eye on my bike, which was placed in an absolutely perfect position to be stolen by the shadowy young man who was walking across the bridge toward me.
As he came closer, I was torn between drinking in the loveliness and turning away for a moment to place a strong hand of ownership on my bike’s handles. However, as he passed, he murmered, “beautiful, isn’t it?” And walked on, noshing on a bowl of ice cream. I’d like to mention that, based on later deductions, he was out for the sole purpose of getting ice cream and going on a stroll in the dreamy twilight. Being alone, he could have had no other motive besides pure enjoyment of the night. Unless he’s a serial killer and was celebrating a little murder. But that seems extreme.
I was charming and witty as I usually am in unexpected social situations, and said, in a voice that resembled a guffaw in its blunt contrast to his quiet tones,
“SOO PRETTTYYY!”
Then he walked on and I waited a socially appropriate time (60.3 seconds) before following him. I lost his trail after he got in his car and left the ice cream shop, but I did get his license plate number. Now it’s only a matter of time.
(Because, obviously, he’s totally my soulmate.)
(Except...I have an uncomfortable feeling that, if my life were a rom-com, and if this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I would have fallen off the retaining wall and tumbled down to the river below, from which he would have rescued me and then bought me ice cream and we’d be married by now, at least.)
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