Well, he’d seen her already, so she could take her time… still, she needed to get to the front of the store. She didn’t want to end up trapped in this back corner, tripping over the delicate displays… and trip she would, like that time she’d nearly fallen down the stairs during a college tour as a Russian family, including father, came up behind her. For the love of God. Why couldn’t it be the mom? What was a dad doing here? Mom… I wonder if there’s a mother in all that… Shut up! Of course there was a fucking mother! It wasn’t that she felt any attraction on a personal level, it was just that accent… accents inevitably triggered these chaotic thoughts and burning feelings she couldn’t make sense of…
Safely out of the back corner, she took a curious look back. He was much taller and somewhat older than she had expected, and had that arched, erudite, uniquely Slavic expression on his face. Yes, somewhat older… when Eastern European men weren’t peasants, when they were scientists or businesspeople like this man probably was, at his age, with graying hair but still physically intact, ah, they were so wonderfully—I deserve to be shot. Nothing less.
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