“That’s a nice car you have there,” he weakly began.
I chortled. My car is not nice. It’s covered in dirt from sitting more days in the carport than being driven. It has dents. And it’s also one of at least half a dozen cars just like it in town.
I raised my eyebrows and said, disbelieving, “Really?! A red Honda fit is pretty average around here”.
That conversation ended quickly. He tried again.
“You new to town?”
“No,” I responded. “I’ve lived here for four years. We live in Chimacum”.
But already enjoying the weird charade by this point, I reciprocated, “What about you?”
“Lived here a couple of years”, he said. Our conversation meandered for a moment.
Then I asked a real question.
“So, why did you come over here?”
“You mean why did I move to Port Townsend? Well I…”
I cut him off.
“No, not why did you move here. Why did you walk across the parking lot just now to talk to me?”
He paused. His eyes widened. I could almost hear the creak of the scales tipping back and forth in his head.
“Uh, I wanted to talk to you because you looked attractive”.
“Ahh,” I said. “It had nothing to do with my car, did it?” He smiled, blushed and shook his head.
I was laughing at this point. Gazing at the bright sun behind his head, I couldn’t help but comment, “Isn’t truth refreshing?”