There was this couple came walking by, holding hands. I was sitting on a concrete step downtown, checking a number on the phone in the shade.
The boy was definitely a boy, a lucky dog. He couldn't have been 15 unless he just wasn't mature-looking, like me at whatever age he is. He was as plain a kid as any you're going to see, but he definitely seemed to have a way with the girls ... at least this one.
I looked at them holding hands and walking by ... him ... then her. With a real fashion sense. The boy, as best as I can remember, didn't seem to have anything out of the ordinary about his fashion sense. It's hard to remember. He definitely looked as plain as any boy I've ever known, not dorky looking but not jet set either. I'm trying to think back to me at that age, also not dorky looking but not jet set either. But I wasn't holding hands with ... her ... or a version of her from those days.
As they passed, I said, "Look at that lucky kid ... wow!" Holding hands in a casual way. He needs to hold hands like his life depends on it, because maybe it does. If he lets her get away, the poor kid's lost. This might kill him anyway, like your first car being a Jaguar, then realizing you live in a Ford world.
OK, I saw her. She had the kind of crazy, deft fashion sense that makes you notice. Short black dress, the kind of dark hosiery that is netted, her dark hair bunched up and pulled back, then this, the sides of her head shaved, either completely or most of the way. Sauntering by. That's about what I saw, because my eyes kept looking at the boy and wondering about his luck as a kid.
Also I'm busy wondering, Is she that much older than him? Can't really be too much older, but she had a more mature look. I kept looking down the street as they got to the end of the block. They were still going, still holding hands. Does he realize how lucky he is?