The Pick Up

He stands in line at the register looking at the backside of the girl he’s been building up the courage to talk to since the produce aisle, “Hello.”

“Hello?”

“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go for a drink or a cup of coffee later.”

“In your dreams.”

“Whoa. OK. A simple ‘No’ would have been fine.”

“No. I’m asking what was in your dreams last night.”

His face reddens, “Er, I’m not sure, I didn’t sleep all that well.”

Still not turning around, she starts removing the items from her cart and placing them on the conveyor belt, “Trust me. You’ll appreciate it later.”

He sees the barest portion of her smile from where he stands behind her and a little to the side, “Come again?”

“You’re funny. I might have to keep you around.”

Bewildered, he plunders on, “So is that a yes on the coffee or not?”

“A week from Tuesday?”

Now dumbfounded, he stammers, “Well, OK. Tuesday it is. Should we meet somewhere?”

“Your mother?!”

“Am I missing something here? Your mother what?”

“Hang on, hon, there’s someone trying to talk to me.” She removes her bluetooth earpiece and turns around, “Did you say something?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

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