Stop and stare

I was walking home the other day, enjoying the gorgeous weather and the fact that the roads weren't completely covered in snow and ice with a nice pair of strappy heels. And then, up ahead a block or so, I saw my friend Neil. Now, I hadn't seen him in what seemed like ages, so I started to pick up my pace, thinking that I could give him a running hug, or at least the biggest scare of his life.

So I'm running after my friend Neil, with my heels announcing my imminent arrival...

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK.

I was running by this time, and then once I was about ten feet away from Neil, I realized that it actually wasn't Neil at all, and so I came to a screeching halt.

Realizing that Not-Neil had clearly heard me running and then come to an abrupt stop right behind him, I hurriedly dug out my phone so that I could pretend to be oddly intrigued by my nonexistent text message when he turned around. And yes, turn around, he did.

Because honestly, what else are you supposed to do in that situation? I had thought to keep on running by him, but when would I stop? At the grocery store? A random hotel lobby, perhaps? But I was wearing heels, and getting progressively short of breath, so I opted for the abrupt stop and the obvious stare-at-phone-for-no-reason-at-all maneuver.

I need to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist. Seriously.

Also, I need to stop assuming that Neil has the only red and gray North Face jacket in the world.