While doing some light shopping at Cabela’s the other night, I met a girl. She worked there. She was cute. She was witty. She was a red-head. Her name was Cassie.
I remember walking towards the register with a few items in hand and thinking, “Wow. She’s really cute. Perhaps I should ask her out.”
As she began to ring up the few items I had laid on the counter, I initiated conversation. She volleyed the verbal ball back to my side of the court. Following up with a humorous quip, she giggled and asked me a question. My response must have been intriguing because, as she finished bagging my items, she leaned forward to listen more intently.
Our conversation continued for what I imagine was perhaps five minutes (at least).
Things were going really well.
I’d be a fool not to ask if I could call her sometime before going on my way.
My gaze fixed on her eyes.
Her gaze fixed on mine.
As my palms became slightly damp from nervous sweat, I casually slipped them into the pockets of my jeans.
I took a breath and opened my mouth ready to speak the words…. Continue reading 'May The Forced Small Talk Be With You'»