I could tell she was trouble by the way she walked. A purposeful stride, her arms spread out to maximum width, taking up as much sidewalk as humanly possible, a ski pole in each hand. Click Clack click clack against the pavement.

Her face was old and wrinkled. She wore a beret, black. Her lips were thin and fire engine red.

She disappeared down the avenue, click clack click clack… I imagined her as a younger woman, beautiful, turning heads, spurning advances, click clack click clack.

It all became so suddenly clear. It is not a lovers world. It never was and never will be.

I hated the way I judged people without knowing them, however that too passed quickly.