From inside Starbucks:
A amply-endowed and woman in a short puffy skirt and a rather too small top is in the parking lot leaning into the window of a 1990’s Corvette speaking with a dark-haired man.
She laughs, and he smiles. She stands upright and walks away, with a slight wave to the man. I can see now that she is to the right of thirty, and under the intense sunlight flooding the parking lot the sequins along the hem edge of her skirt sparkle. The skirt is so poufy I expect a hint of petticoat flounce, but am disappointed.
I wonder at the topic of conversation between the poufy woman and the dark-haired man in the Corvette. My companions and I indulge in some idle conjecture. Was this the conclusion to a transaction for sexual favors? Was it a flirtatious encounter between strangers, each admiring an asset the other had placed on display? Or was this as mundane as the chance meeting between acquaintances on a busy Sunday morning?