Soy latte in hand–a hot liquid celebration–I was enjoying a leisurely browse through an assortment of pretty things. A metallic pink train case! Small palettes could go here, pencils there, brushes over there, and this compartment would be perfect for creams….
“Do you need this?” A small boy’s hands appeared on either side of the train case.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Then what are you doing?” The boy was five or six years old.
“Well, I’ve never owned one and am imagining its usefulness.”
“But you just said.”
“I’ve always liked them too.” Had I coveted these types of things since my Barbie days?
“But you just said.” He looked up at me, waiting for a better answer.
“You’re right,” I looked at him. Where can I find a wrap or scarf? A more pressing need.
“Dante!” A woman’s voice yelled. “Leave the nice lady alone!”