On our way home from furniture shopping, Best Friend and I headed to our local winery.  There, we picked up a case of our favorite wines.  I was looking at some accoutrements at the end of the aisle, when an older woman approached Best Friend and struck up a conversation.

The woman talked.  And talked.  And talked.  Then her husband joined the group.  He was quiet as she talked and talked.  Best Friend and I tried to end the conversation as polite as possible, but she followed us as we inched our way to the checkout counter.

I found an opening for me to leave and head to the salad dressings.

“Made it!” I thought to myself as I peeled myself from the group.  When I returned to Best Friend and our cart, she was still there, where she proceeded to inspect our cart, comment on the wines, and pick up the bottle of salad dressing.

“Oh, let’s see what you got,” was her comment as she inspected the label.

What nerve she’s got!  I thought to myself.

Finally – finally – her husband said they had “to go” and we were rid of that non-stop motor mouth.

She was exhausting and rude to latch onto us the way she did.

She must be a lonely woman.

©2022 Colcannon Metropolis, excerpt from “Postcards from The Ridge”