Suburban gothic

Yesterday I got home early enough to take a walk on a lovely, windy day. You see a lot of the same people when you walk regularly, and you vaguely get to know (at least on a "hello") basis who lives where in the neighborhood. It'll be interesting to see new faces on my walks once I move, though the new house is so close I only have to cross one major street to be back on my old walking route.

As I cleared a hill, I could see a young couple up ahead, hanging out by a beat-up car parked at the curb. I judged that they were 18 or 20. The girl had the look of someone who avoids the outdoors--pasty skin, no muscle tone. Long, long blonde hair and loose, black clothing. In other words, she looked just like I did at 18 or 20. The boy was very tall and thin with whispy, thin hair down to his shoulders. He was also wearing black (maybe a t-shirt for The Cult--is that still possible? I mean, do people still care about The Cult?) and smoking a cigarette.

In other words, he could have been a boyfriend when I was 18 or 20.

They were leaning in sullen, unhappy postures and eying me as I neared them. The girl smiled, pointed to her companion and said, "I'm in love with this man and he won't come back to me."

Somehow, I hadn't expected that statement from her. "I'm sorry, that sounds pretty rough," I returned, and kept walking. What was I supposed to say? I feel your pain? Get used to it? It probably won't be the last time?

I'm glad I'm not 18 or 20 anymore.