Chance Encounter
I was only shopping... really. I was in Bloomingdales, my favorite store, but a mess now with extensive renovations and some sections closed off entirely with scaffolding and plastic sheets. An attractive middle-aged sales assistant in a short tight black pencil skirt called out, “Hello, I’m Angela. Are you finding everything you need?” “Yes, thank you, I’m just browsing.” An old man glanced at my legs as I tried on a pair of sandals, but saw nothing t...