So maybe it’s just my imagination here. I was walking Team Small Dog down the street, by the big apartment complex across the street from the sea, on leashes, early in the morning, a block or so from Lighthouse Field, when down the street drives a Ranger. One I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet in person. Sun just up and pretty glarey this early, shines bright over the giant ocean right behind me. In his overstuffed truck that they use now for driving around on the grass and making convenient new truck roads on the soft, meadowy grass. Looking for criminals. And he drives towards me, and slows down, and takes a big, long, drink of water of a looksie at me. Driving all slow.

He’s sort of gray and oldish, cruising in that super mega Dodge truck. I’m sort of somewhat late to work looking. I would say, probably you would not drive by me and go, “Sakesy almighty, what a hottie.” Wait. Would anyone say that? Or Snoop Dogg would not say, “Look here beeyatch you fine and I dig yo style.” Maybe you would say, “Look at her messy unkempt hair and I bet she would like some more coffee for faster speedwalking in scuffy clogs and dirty jeans and what are those a bunch, of related chihuahuas? And she just tripped in her clogs? And who even wears clogs?”

So he’s slowing down. Turns his head so we can look deep in each other’s eyes. And I just flash a warm and winning smile. If you mean by warm and winning it can include perhaps showing a few more teeth than really need showing in a smile because my lips stretch sort of contortion like as we lock eyes for an instant. And then he just drives off and I keep walking on home. So I can go get a life.