Inappropriate Questions

“He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” my friend whispered to me as we stood in line at Target. I glanced at the check-out clerk. Young. On the thin side. Dark hair, slicked back. “Mmmm. Yeah. I guess so. Yeah. He is cute.” We continued to examine our choices of gum. I picked up two, then three, packages of Dentyne Ice for the plane ride tomorrow. He whispered again, “Do you think that’s a straight ring, or a gay ring?” All I could see was a glob of gold flashing on his left hand ring finger as he bagged items.

“Hi, how are you tonight?” I asked him. He responded with something akin to a grunt.

“Wow. I really like your ring.” He glanced at me, then nodded, his chin thrust upward in something akin to an acknowledgement.

“Is that your wedding ring?” He looked at me harder, then snorted, in something that was definitely a scoff.

“Can I see it up close?” He held out his hand with a flick of his wrist. Staring at me from the safety of his hand were two cloudy ruby eyes, nestled snugly in a molten gold skull.

He handed me my bag.

As we exited Target, my friend turned to me, laughing hysterically. “Nice work, Nancy Drew! Is that your wedding ring? HAHAHAHAHAHA….”

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