Pickup

I was at the UPS central office in Santa Clara this evening, picking up a new lens for my camera (new job = more money = one or two toys that must be signed for in person). When you get there, you need to sign in, something I didn't clue in on until the rather handsome, well-dressed, in-shape, thirty-something man next to me pointed it out.

"Where?", I asked, noting that it came out more brusquely than I intended.

"Over on the table," he replied.

"Thanks, man." (the "man" added so as to counter the previous brusqueness).

So I go, sign in, and return. I catch him glimpsing at me out of the corner of his eye. I glimpse back. I note that he wears no wedding ring.

Nothing happens.

Eventually he gets his package and is gone.

Five minutes later, I have my toy and am on my way home.