Breakfast Letters: She is at the Gate

I saw a glimpse of her face and was startled. But the rest of her said something else. Had I imagined it, was my eyesight in need of glasses? I brushed it aside but I could not shake the impression. I had to take a second look. I braced myself so as not to stare, I mean after all, if she was what I thought she has a right to do what she wants. She was behaving somewhat skittish, like a two-year-old nervous filly at the starting gate of her first race.

Did she realize how she looked? Was she out of her normal hunting grounds? Was it her first attempt at a hunt? Or, was that deer in the headlight, frantic, fragile aura she was producing attractive to her prey? No I was not attracted I was intrigued, puzzled and I bloody well wanted to spend an hour asking her why. I moved in her direction and walked as close as I could get. I was moving through the store as though I owned it she was moving through it as though she was trespassing; huge difference.

Dark brown Ugg boots, she was short, maybe 5’4”, denim shorts (almost Daisy Dukes), one of those sparkly western looking T-shirts that are so popular around here.

Her hair was shoulder length and blonde. She might weigh90 pounds. She must have sensed my approach. She turned and looked right at me when I was no more than 5 feet from her. My first conclusion was correct. She may have been dressed like a 17 year-old-girl but I am guessing she was closer in age to 47. She was pretty or would have been if she put on another 20 pounds. She looked scared. I smiled as I passed her which seemed to startle her. I still want to hear her story. What happened to her? Hey Michelle, how about we do a series on cougars and jaguars, what they are about, what happened to them. Dressing like their daughters and competing in the same hunting grounds. Oh wait…..flashback to my Sociology years….

I have not had an assignment in months. Do you think I have been fired?