I stood trying to find myself in the pages of yet another book, balancing coat and backpack, and keeping hair from obscuring a copy of "Sexing the Cherry."
I was startled by the service counter dude. "Found it," he said.
I think I said something eloquent like, "Um?"
"The book you were asking about." At this point the volume in my hand snapped shut, and we each saw that the two books matched. "You found it, too," he said.
Now, this is not the kind of title a person on her lunch hour wants just anybody watching her read.
"You were going to use it for a class, right? We can get copies for your students."
"OK, you must have me mixed up with somebody else."
"You're not teaching Language and Gender in the spring term?"
"Um, noooo... Maybe Physics 101?"
That's when she rounded the corner, still wondering where to find the book in question. She shrugged off her coat, spilling black hair everywhere. The clerk looked at her. He looked at me. Her face showed some impatience. Mine, I suppose, amusement.
"There are two of you."
"So it would seem," she said. She looked somewhat like my reflection, but not enough to cause confusion. She took the book from the clerk. We eyed each other curiously for a long moment.
We both spoke at once: "So."
And then, "I want to meet anybody who's looking for this book," I told her.
She nodded, large black eyes shining back at me. I found myself wondering at the coincidence of my tiny reflection in her eyes with whatever was going on inside her head.
My abdominal butterfly lazily flapped a wing or two. "There's, um, a cafe, like, right next door..."
"Like, I'd, like, totally, like that," she laughed.
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