Like everyone else I need to go shopping now and then I don’t mean that pleasurable shopping for clothes, shoes and other accessories, but for food and those little things which keep a life running on a daily basis. Unlike many other people – and I’ve often looked at shoppers while they’re in the supermarket – I don’t just look at what’s on the shelves or offered at a discount; I watch the people too.
Watching people is one of my favorite pastimes: sitting in a street cafÃƒÆ’Ã‚Â©; waiting for the bus; just wandering around a city or town. Watching and admiring – sometimes – people that I see as they go about their lives, running here and there or just relaxing in the spring sun. And today was one of those watching days, but with a special bonus.
She stood in front of me in the queue, waiting to pay. An older woman, slightly smaller than me, dressed in tight jeans and a light jacket which fell just over the top of her backside. Her hair was a natural blond with darker highlights added. She wore a light, almost delicate fragrance and had calm, happy features. No shopping stress, no worries, just shopping for a few things. Her hands were delicate and the fingers long with well manicured nails.
The queue was short, and I stood just a little bit behind her, watching and thinking about nothing in particular; wondering what it would be like. And then she took a little step backwards, not quite impeding on my space, but coming closer to me without any threatening gestures or intentions. When the queue moved forward she moved too, but not so far, and I moved with her; a little bit closer. My hand brushed her jacket, lightly and unobtrusively. She must have noticed, I thought, but didn’t react. There was no reason for us to be standing quite so close to one another, but we did.
She turned slightly, looking at something to her left with a small smile on her face, which lit up everything. I guess she must have been in her late thirties. My mind began to wander and I wondered what it would be like to be with her, to talk to her and, perhaps, to touch her skin. I wondered what it would be like to slip the jacket off her shoulders from behind, letting my hands brush against the swell of her breasts. I wondered what it would be like, how I would feel, running my hands across the line of her jeans-covered bum, feeling her curves.
She had sought out food items for one person: a small loaf of bread; four mini yogurts; a bar of plain milk chocolate. I imagined her at home, alone with her thoughts, waiting for someone to come and visit her. The queue moved on, we were in second and third position now. We touched lightly once more, and she didn’t move away.
She paid cash, looked at me once – fleetingly – and then left the store as I paid for my few things. I wondered whether she would walk slowly toward the exit, perhaps hoping that I might catch up with her, and I tried to.
Outside I saw her stride towards an expensive BMW – which surprised me as she had bought price reduced items – and climb into the passenger seat. The driver was a male, I didn’t see whether he was young or old, and they drove away.
We all have dreams. Perhaps she’ll be there again sometime soon.
Love & Kisses, Viki.