I was arrested by an elderly Scottish woman at the grocery store.
She detained me with her exquisitely-lined face and cool hand on mine. Her sharp eyes and wisdom smile seized hold of my attention, bringing me to a full stop by the grapes. But it was that accent – the lilting Scotch-Irish brogue and turns-of-phrase – and the slips of stories that truly held me captive.
I could have listened to her all day long.
But alas, I have Obligations, and so the moment need be short. I wonder if she knows she still holds my imagination hostage.