w4m – San Francisco (mission district)
I was walking north on Valencia early Friday afternoon, meandering home after gorging on Arizmendi pizza — bright tomato-red pants, scarf, carrying a bag of cookies for later. You were waiting to order at The Summit [aka 780 Cafe], half turned around to look outside, and I thought you did a little double-take as our line of sight switched from side window to open door — black t-shirt, maybe a messenger bag, dark hair.
The thing is, I was wearing super cool aviators that lend me that “you can’t tell what I’m thinking, but wouldn’t you like to know?” swagger, so I couldn’t actually see inside very well or determine if we were making eye contact when, you know, you couldn’t see my eyes. Besides, maybe you were just checking out my friend . . .