“Can you come here for a moment?”
I approached her slowly, a half-smile and sunglasses guarding my face. Probably on her way to the mid-day senior dance at the community center, I thought. Maybe it’s her first time and she wants to be sure this is the right place.
Her dancing shoes matched her beige satin dress, a slim, above-the-knee number overlaid with black lace. As we met, she shrugged off her black bolero and turned.
“Would you mind zipping me up? Since my husband died I can’t completely dress myself.”
“Oh my goodness, yes,” I replied, zipping up the last ten inches or so.
“I guess before I leave I’ll have to find someone to unzip me so I can get changed at home.”
Good luck? No, that didn’t seem right. She was inside by the time I said, “Have fun.”