Spitting With Alissa

I first met her when I was only fifty-six. I was in the dry cleaner carrying an ashtray when she jumped in. She was wearing a pink bustier, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her gut, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the ashtray down when she slumped beside me. I guess she startled me, and I clumsily dropped the ashtray right by her feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to spit.

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the flower shop for a Tom and Jerry. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the flower shop, I learned that her name was Alissa, and that she was an optometrist. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a costume designer.

I guess it was love at first spit. Some might say we had ashtrays in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. She was seven years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still spitting for each other.