Him: A tallish lad with dark hair that's short on the slides and fashioned in a non-ironic comb-over. Plastic rimmed glasses, black. T-shirt, red.
Her: An average sized gal with mousy brown, slightly frizzing triangle hair. Hooded sweatshirt, white.
Them: Nondescript blue jeans and flat shoes, sneakers maybe. Youngish, no older than 33, I'd say.
Me: A smallish framed woman with dark straight hair parted down the middle, a little bloated. Cat eye sunglasses, black. Wrap dress clamped shut by crossed legs, grey.
Them: Walking Easterly by for the first time.
Me: Eating a salad laden with fried chicken, and a side of fried pickles, looks up at Them.
Him: Comb over blowing in the wind. Looking stoic. Good posture.
Me: Thinking, "How sad! Youngish hipstery kid with a non-ironic comb-over. Poor buddy."
Her: Walking close, left arm reaching up to place her left hand on his right shoulder.
Them: Walking Westerly by me same her-hand-on-his-shoulder formation.
Me: Looking up from my John Waters book, thinking, "How strange."
Them: Walking Westerly by me again!
Me: "When did they walk back by?!? I missed it! What weirdos!"
Her: Walking briskly three steps in front of him, arms crossed.
Him: Semi-trying to catch up with her.
Them: Still silent.
Me: Still watching. Wondering what possibly could have transpired during their silent back and forth pacing.
Him: Catches up to her and puts his arm around her.
Her: Arms still crossed trying to pull away.
Him: Arm now around her neck.
Her: Leaning into his chest as if in a headlock.
Him: Rubbing her back. Slowly migrating his hand to her ass.