I was walking out of Walmart Friday night into the 44-degree night air — one of our coldest recently — and I saw a well-dressed and attractive woman, about 30, walking toward the door with her arms folded tightly to her body.
“You look really cold,” I said sympathetically.
“Yeah, I am,” she said and then added in a playful but seductive tone. “Did you want to keep me warm?”
Then she realized what she had just said to a stranger and she looked stricken.
“I am so sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know why I said that. I just….”
And she suddenly took off for the inside of the store to avoid explaining herself further. It was amusing, but I could feel her embarrassment at having said something vaguely suggestive to a man who she didn’t know — and who she couldn’t possibly explain herself to.
Though I laughed inside, it left me thinking — yet again — how little we understand each other. And it made me think again that living among strangers we don’t understand is like constantly walking through a thick fog.
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
When love finally dies, it’s like a fever breaks and the pain is gone
