To an outsider, it might have appeared as though we were mimicking each other's movements. Perhaps it even seemed as though a mirror had been magically raised upwards alongside my body to reflect my motions and thoughts and buying habits.
I was at the Virgin Megastore in Union Square again, having just left my heart on the L train, and was now looking for something to come home with me. They have a small "Indie" section now, you know, and that's where I was, peering ever-so-intently at the pretty albums before me. When I felt a presence to my left.
Turning, I was surprised to find my reflection in the mirror. Only it wasn't me, of course. It was my friend, Andrea, also peering ever-so-intently, obviously, at the pretty albums before her. Before us. We were only inches apart. All in a moment, now,Then: recognition followed by happiness
Then: more surprise followed by a bit of excitement
And finally: a hug.
It was nice.
"That was weird," I said.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Together, we searched, through exhaustion and hunger and endless racks and displays, for the music that we would most love, and, in return, would most love us. As though these CDs were little puppies and kittens looking for a home. And I can't wait for it to happen again, really.
