I’m not sure how many sweaters one passes and how many opportunities one has to remark upon these sweaters when one commits to twenty laps end store to end store in the mall, but it’s a lot. So as one leaves the mall with his girlfriend, who never once commented on a sweater during the walk, and she points to a younger, fitter man and says, “That sweater would look good on you,” one might assume it was the man and not the sweater that drew her fancy.

     Not that I was jealous.

     Nor was I jealous tonight after E-- kissed me and asked for details about my first kiss. No part of me, even for a second, thought that maybe she may have been thinking about her first kiss while her lips were on mine.

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