We approach the best-seller table at the same time.
I select a hardback, browse the flap. Non-fiction.
You, much taller, glasses, grabbed Khaled Hosselini’s newest; now in paperback.
I’ve been wanting to read that one. I move in, closer to you & your maleness, discreetly searching the eager up-turned covers vying for my attention. Pick me. Pick me.
You sense me hovering and move back mumbling, “don’t mind me, I’m just taking up space here,”
I smile a sideways glance and offer up, “that’s okay, we all are."
Forgetting the book, I move off toward the magazine rack.