Not Until We’re Married
I’d been divorced and living alone for two years when I met her. I’d been out to the grocery store buying my usual dinner. Everything had been placed on the checkout belt when I looked up and there she was. I was stunned. She was every fantasy I had stroked myself to for the past two years. My mind screamed at me to say something, anything to get her to notice me but all I could do was stare. Finally, I blurted out the only thing I could think of.
“So…uh…you live alone?” I stammered.
“What?” she said, turning to look at me with curiosity.
“I…uh…the stuff you’re buying,” I said, pointing at her groceries.
She searched my face for a moment, glanced down at my pile, looked back up and smiled.
“You too, huh?” she said.
I was done. I had run out of things to say.
