who’s counting, anyway?

Carrying a coffee, having just finished a job interview (not for me, but by me), I’m walking past the University Club. From a distance, I notice a familiar gait. It’s not wobbly or unstable. Bouncy, perhaps? Do I say hi first? Do I ignore your eyes? Am I going to trip, coffee in tow?

“Good morning, Madame President. How are you?,” with a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
Hi, Mr. President. Um, good. You?,” nearly spewing coffee in the nearby bushes. 
Just fine. You have a good day, Libby,” having passed me and turned up the boys’ club stairs.
“Uh huh.”

Never will I doubt my abilty to facilitate clear, articulate thoughts.  And I doubt he will.


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