Virgo

I ran into a friend of an old girlfriend at the airport last night. Virgo. “Hey, how you doing, what’re you up to? Off to Dallas? Me too.”

Funny how that works. I’d just put my belt back on, so I felt fully clothed. Plus I had on a nice tweed sport coat (Italian in design and execution, actually), a nice shirt, clean jeans, and the boots had the remnants of a shine still on them. “Looking good,” I’m thinking to myself, “that’ll get around.”

Even better, I’d just swiped a Wall Street Journal from the doorstep of an empty apartment. I hope I never rent that place (I’m afraid I will, the way things are going.) So there I was, looking good, wrestling with 802.11 access at the airport, and I run into an girlfriend’s girlfriend. What will they say?

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