Flattered

There were other customers in the store, but she came to me soon after I walked in the door. She was pretty, friendly, in her early twenties and (for some reason) interested in me, an average guy in his mid-thirties. “Perhaps it is my new beard,” I thought.

I had walked directly to the aisle that carried Keitel’s dog food, but his usual culinary fare was unavailable. I had made a special trip to this store, so I was walking out with food, I merely needed to review the labels to be certain which food would not differ too much in fiber/rice content.

She saw that I was reading the labels. With a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye she offered me assistance; I politely declined.

After finding the best food (at a reasonable price) I turned down the next aisle where his treats can be found. She peeked her head around the end of the aisle and winked at me, “How about now?” she asked. “No, I am okay…but thank you.” I replied (thinking to myself, “You still go it, you ole’ dog, you”).

After selecting his treats, I pushed my cart (with it’s 42 pounds of dog food) to the register. We crossed paths one last time; she wished me a “wonderful night”.

After I dropped off the food at my car, I walked back to the store to return the cart, but alas, the door would not open. It had been locked.

I looked at the sign and discovered that the store had closed. It was 6:08, the store closes at 6:00.

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “she must have really liked me if she was that nice and it was closing time.”

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