About a Boy

I'm standing at the counter in the store, arranging and rearranging, and in he walks. That boy, I just can't help myself, he makes me do a double-take. He's the boy who makes me remember what it felt like to be an awkward teenager in the presence of a beautiful member of the opposite sex. The boy...well, he really is just a boy. I should be ashamed of myself.

He's speaking, smiling that broad gleaming smile, dark eyes with a mischevious glint. There's an air of confidence about him suggesting he knows more than I did at his age. I point him in the direction of the items he's requested in the hardware section. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He's tall and lean, stuck upon the precipice of manhood, and I imagine not yet his full height.

He's found that thing he was looking for and is in front of me again at the counter. He's chatty in that "Nice day out there" sorta way. I'm like a giddy schoolgirl, in daydream mode, wondering how my hair looks.

And then it all comes to the screeching halt I SO deserve.

Boy: "Uh, can I mark this down on my mom's account book?"

Whoa! I can hear the sound effects going off inside my head like in the movies....the sound of tires laying rubber on the pavement and then the crash. I picture a truck pummeling through the front door of my store.

How's that for a quick SNAP back to thirty-something reality, girl? That's what you get!

I shake my head and chuckle out loud at my ridiculous self. He's probably wondering what the heck just happened.

"Yeah sure," I say, "Have a good day!"

The door slams in his wake. Look out girls, you could be in trouble! Or maybe you`re all smarter than me.