Oops
My loaf was mouldy, necessitating a trip to the local shop.
As I stood in line, a slim young lady was bending over the counter (signing a cheque, I think). I idly admired the view - on purely aesthetic grounds - as I waited.
The young lady completed her transaction and turned around. Bugger me, it was former neighbour S__. We exchanged “Hello”s.
As my own transaction was quick (and, I suspect, because S__ was deliberately hanging around at her car), she was still there when I left shortly afterwards.
“Hello, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks. How are the you, the kids, P___?”
“All good. You looked surprised to see me.”
“Ah yes. Well, it’s just that I didn’t recognise you and …”
“What?”
“I’ve just realised there’s no way I can finish that sentence that wouldn’t lead me to getting a slapped face or worse.”
Luckily - as P___ looks as if he could be handy with his fists if roused - she laughed.
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