The Pants Detector
Seizing the advantage as she touches the pants: “You found some?”
“Yes.” Is she toying with me? Or is she asking: “Did you find those pants, or did they find you? Can one ever truly say one has found something? Was it not always here? Is there a Finder, is there anything to find, was there ever anything to lose?”
In the fluorescent-lit navel of a sparsely traveled store sits the existential gatekeeper, waiting, waiting, for the seeker who will present his offering and answer the perilous questions.
At least she didn’t ask, “So you’re starting to need Relaxed Fit?”