The Hit

In the supermarket today, things got a little crowded in one of the aisles. I waited with my cart till traffic cleared. A little old man, must've been 80-years-old, with a shopping basket in the crook of his arm, waved me through. I said thanks and pushed my cart to the frozen food section. I was looking for puff pastry.

Not seeing the pastry where I thought they were stocked, I pushed my cart along the whole frozen section to the ice creams, looking into each change of item. I walked by the little old man again. He stood back to let me pass. Still not finding the puff pastry, I made my way back, again passing the little old man.

This time, he said in a quaint little accent, "Hello, how are you?" He made a little bow. He was neatly dressed in Fred Astaire casual.

"Fine," I said, "Hope you are well too." I continued on my way.

When I turned around a little later, the little old man was staring at me. Which made me think, was he trying to hit on me? Is that the kind of hits I get now? Or did he think I was stalking him and he just wanted to confront his stalker?

I'm gonna say he was hitting on me. No doubt because of my Anna Nicole Smith-ness, minus the big boobs, the blond tresses, and the va-va-voom-ness. Yup. That's what he made me think of.