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Silkworm Ink

January 10, 2014

There is a man who stares at me whenever our paths cross. I haven’t said anything to my husband because he’d just laugh at me and my so called fertile imagination. Our town of Adams, Connecticut has a population of only twelve thousand so it’s not uncommon to run into the same people. He’s one of those people and it’s almost always in the super market. He likes to catch my eye and maintain eye contact as long as possible until I’m the one to break it off, a little flushed and embarrassed. 
Yesterday I saw him in the hardware store and he was staring at another woman that same way. I noticed that his posture was erect, his hair wavy with a touch of grey and he had a pleasant and non-threatening expression.
 She saw him looking, smiled and looked away. I walked around the store holding my basket and dropping in a few items—light bulbs, batteries, a mouse trap—nothing I really needed, until I was between the staring man and the hussy who smiled him a come on. I stared at him--waiting for him to turn and catch my eye but he didn’t give me a glance. 
He paid for his purchases and left without appearing to notice me. Minutes later, composed but more annoyed than when he stared at me, I left the store and got into my car. I looked around before backing out of my space and there he was, staring at me from the safety of his car parked next to mine. Flustered, I put my car in park and stared back, determined not to give in and I wouldn’t have if that hussy from inside the store hadn’t walked between us and opened his passenger door.

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