I heard her cab
pull up and went down to the street to help her
with her bags. Made a little bet with myself that
the first thing she was going to say would be some
snide comment about my clothes.
I was almost right. "Phoebe," which is my name, was
the first thing she actually uttered. Then some
stuff about her flight, and how was I? and all
that. This is the feel-each-other-out part.