...my element

Vomit in wastepaper baskets.
It's Friday.
Pete and I ventured downtown today solely so that I could buy a pink (salmon) shirt.
From a women's clothing store with a very, very minute men's section.
I wandered in there about a week ago to avoid conversation with some Victory patron who makes me uncomfortable (Tim).
Suddenly I'm face to face with two attractive women and I'm browsing Joey t-shirts and lime-green dresses.
And purses.
And preposterously over-sized belts.
And "Is this a women's clothing store?" I ask.
They inform me that it is, in fact, a women's clothing store.
With a very small men's section.
My returning had nothing to do with the infatuatingly attractive artsy female whom I bantered with during my first visit.
I just wanted to buy a shirt that I could write
I HATE YOU
on. And I wanted to use a shirt that was softly-colored.
When it comes to public animosity, soft hues are tantamount.
She was there again today.
She helped to hold the shirt steady as I did the lettering.
Our fingers were inches apart.
It was terrifying.
And I used to be the confident one in all of the boutiques...