At the time, it seemed like the ideal moment to make my move.
It’s not every day I find myself engaged in rapt conversation with a beautiful woman fifteen years younger than myself; her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity suggesting more than a passing interest.
Smoothly, coolly, nonchalantly, I said, “We should get together sometime. Like, go somewhere. Or something.”
Perhaps my wooing abilities had grown a bit rusty. But I hoped the sincerity of my offer would convey an endearing sense of innocence.
A bitter smile broke across her face. She shook her head in a manner that unequivocally said “no” and redirected her gaze downwards to the gray surface of the metal table at which we sat…
