I followed this girl down the long ramp from the car-park. She had ringletty golden brown hair, newly washed, still wet - looked great from behind. Red skirt, white blouse, waist cutting in, smart. And a red garter on her right fore-arm...
Medium heels clunked on the concrete ramp, but she coped with it well enough. She had a confident gait, knew what she was doing, no paralysis of self-doubt or despair here. After all she had a job, she looked okay, and she didn't have time or doubt on her hands. Still in the confidence of youth she was, comfortably in the parading pre-courtship age. No middle-aged heaviness in her step. Decisions still ahead of her, her life open, she was yet a stranger to wistful day-dreaming, to regrets. She reached the bottom of the ramp and turned into the supermarket, another day, another checkout to run.