I’m sitting at a café when a stranger approaches me. He asks my name. “Marilyn,” I answer.
The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.”
I gaze into his soft, brown eyes “Well,” I reply, with a hint of teasing, “I’ve been looking for you, too. Do you come here often?”
“Not nearly often enough, it would seem,” he says, juggling the bags he’s carrying. He pulls me to my feet and loops an arm through mine. “I think there’s a burger joint over there. I’m hungry. How about you?”
As I rise to my feet, he continues: “You were supposed to meet me by Kohl’s. Where were you?”
I organize my own packages. “I’ll never tell you. You’ll have to kill me first.”
Garry and I go hand in hand through the crowded mall. He says: “I hate shopping this close to Christmas. It’s a madhouse.”
“I know,” I respond, giving his hand a squeeze. “But it’s worth it … because I get to meet such a handsome stranger.”