Bright Tights

“Those are the. Best. Pants. Ever.”
I look up from the shelf of collectibles at Powel’s bookstore to see a lanky man with wide set eyes staring at me.  One eye looks a bit to the left and the other one directly at me. I never know where to look in those moments, so I decide on the bridge of his nose.
“Thanks,” I say, setting down the temporary Gratitude tattoo that I was contemplating buying.
“I saw your pants, or tights, or whatever they are called and I thought, ‘Those are intense tattoos.'”  He laughs.
“Oh, could you imagine? ” I laugh.
“You totally should, though.  That would be awesome,” he continues to stare at me hard, then glances down to my tights.
“But I have other leggings to wear. I have to change it up you know.”  I explain.
“You’re not from around here are you?”  His arms hang loosely by his side and he stands tall and still.
“Oh,” I let out a sigh and little frown. “How did you know?”  I look down at my funky jean skirt and floral print leggings and back to him, “I thought I looked like a local.”
“You do,” he assures me, “but you sound like you’re from the mid-west.”
“I am.  Michigan.  And Florida.”
“What brings you here?”
“I packed my car and thought about relocating out to Portland.” I tell him.  “But I’ll be returning to Florida because I met my love before I left.”
He arches back like a ball of energy struck him in the chest.  He throws his head back and rolls his eyes, bringing a hand to his chest and feigning pain.
“Well, good luck with that.  I just wanted to tell you that you made me day brighter with your tights.  Thank you.”
“Thank you….” I trail off extending my hand waiting for his name.
“Steve.”
“Thank you, Steve.  I’m Sara.  And you’ve brightened my day by liking my tights.”

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