Hot Child In The City

From a distance her legs look like two savoury plump sausages in technicolour flip flops with thinner links for arms. Long blonde hair cascading from under a baseball cap with a ridiculously oversized brim, neon orange-armed Wayfarer knock offs and an off the shoulder, deliberately distressed tank top with a faded picture of The Velvet Underground and Nico's Andy Warhol album cover, likely bought brand new last week in the market at one of the dozens of vintage shops lining the streets. Sharon catches her breath- it is like walking directly into the  mirror version of her 15 year-old self circa 1987. She wonders if maybe those are her actual cut off high waisted 501's, one of the four pairs she finally Goodwilled last season after coming to terms with the fact that the '80's never worked on her hourglass shaped rubenesque body. She is a 40's girl, bred in her bones, and so is this pretty young thing walking straight at her, oblivious to everything except her smartphone with the kitschy fake cassette tape cover. If she was going to ape any era, this blondie wanna-be John Hughes character should look back a few decades to the Betty Grables and Pages. That is something she could rock, in spades. The a-line, big bosomed, rockabilly- roller derby- suicide girl thing would quite suit her shape. And demeanor. That's what is so jarring to Sharon. This girl shared her walk, her attitude. Even the way she cocks her head to her left shoulder when reading her texts and adjusts the bra strap on her right- all classic Sharon tics. Maybe her dad did have a secret life, an entirely separate family with another wife and kids. This girl could be her long lost half sister, born 15 years after her and now swaying her short-shorted, acid washed self directly into her path. The light turns, the girl stops, looks up from her phone, meets Sharon's eye, which obviously unnerves her. Sharon all of the sudden feels exposed, vulnerable. She smiles, uneasily but then with great enthusiasm. The girl furrows her brow, shoulder checks to see if there is someone behind her, then tentatively returns the smile. She drops right back into her phone and steps into the intersection, leaving Sharon to marvel at the uncanny connection.

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