There’s a place called “Vintage Snapshots” that I love. It’s a store that sells old film posters, old records, gramophones (which are always old), etc. The walls are a kind of
velvety burgundy color and when you enter it, you feel as though you’ve stepped into a rich lady’s hatbox.
As soon as I was released from work, I made my way over there – it was on the other side of the walking mall. On my right was a guy walking in the same direction. I glanced at him at the same time he glanced at me.
I continued to make my way to the store, trying to either walk slower or faster than him because the store was on the right side and I needed to pass him. In my efforts, I looked over at him again, the same time he happened to look at me confusedly. Then he ducked into “Vintage Snapshots”.
My plans were ruined, at least for as long as he was in there. As a rule of thumb, I refuse to go into the same place as someone I’ve made eye contact with more than once; I’m convinced the person will either think I’m in love with him, I’m stalking him, or I’m stalking him because I’m in love with him. I refused to let any guy wearing cargo shorts believe I was acting on any of the three above three options.
