artchick

Shopping

I'm standing in line in the bedding section of Macy's department store. The woman in front of me glances my way, then darts a second look, her eyes bright. Trying, and failing, to be discreet. Adhering to some universal law, she lowers her voice at the same moment the room decides to fall silent, whispering to the man beside her:

She has green hair.

Everyone hears her, including the man, the cashiers, myself, and the two men I am with. A miniature silence passes. After a moment, he replies.

Mazeltov!