I was shopping today when I spotted Luis and Amy visciously making out against the picturesque backdrop of a
gracefully flowing fontain and serene presence of Bloomingdale's. I watched them with a pang of envy, at once glad that he and Amy were so strong together, and at the same time dolefully wishing it could be me. (But not with Luis. Obviously.) I saw them go by, hand in hand, Luis smiling at her bashfully as they chattered. I found myself toying with the idea of walking over and perhaps blowing them away with a witty comment, but instead pressed one hand to the glass and, with a tired, sad smile, watched as they faded into the crowd. I thought I was rather like Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, lurking in the shadows, (or, in my case, the fabric and discounted pillows department of The Bombay Store) ruefully staring at those I love while never revealing myself for their own good.

Perhaps I'm exagerating.

And so I walked away into the night alone. Well, mid-afternoon, while swinging a bag that carried my new black clogs.

Goodbye sweet Luis and Amy, we shall meet again some day.