Standing in line at Borders waiting to buy a copy of Songlines. The woman behind me is on the phone and talking very loudly in my ear. So I moved forward, especially when she says, "I don't know, I've had it for a while, but it's gotten worse." I turn and look to see what I'm dealing with. It's a very pretty young woman, outfitted expensively and I guess the term is stylishly, which to me means very unhip and staid and conservative and just oh-so-Boston proper.
I move away from her, she continues talking loudly into her phone, this time about how she just signed up to take her GMATs in the spring, and steps forward again. I move again, she moves.
Darlin', what do you have, and how worse has it gotten? And can I catch it from you breathing down my neck like this?
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