Ten o'clock and the gang all tucked in for the night, zipped out alone to Barnes and Noble for coffee and inspiration. Abba playing on the store stereo system when I walk in. Dancing Queen.
Head straight for the magazines, looking for something to read in the cafe. The magazine section is up front by the windows. Also up front by the windows are some armchairs. In one of the armchairs is a couple, she in his lap, her legs over the armrests, her hands in his hair. Liplocked. He's curly-haired and square-jawed and handsome. She's a tousle-haired bottle blonde in a halter top and very tight jeans and high-heels.
They are in their 40s.
He's well in. Hard to say about her because much of her face is hidden by all that hair. But she was in junior high at least when Dancing Queen first made the charts.
I tried to be quick picking out a magazine but it couldn't have taken me less than half a minute and they didn't come up for air the whole time I was there.
When I was in junior high, if I saw a couple like them, I'd have thought, Ewww.
When I was in college and in my twenties, I'd have thought, Good for them.
In my thirties, I'd have thought, Get a room.
Tonight I thought...I think I'll find a book to read instead.
And I zipped off to the essay section.
Ok, maybe I also thought how nice it must be, to be out on a date on a warm summer night, making out with your sweetheart while listening to Abba and that I was a little jealous too.
They still need to find a room.