When you reach eighty-three, and there is no romance in your life, your brain goes soft. It turns to mush, I think.
I rolled to the market on my scooter and cruised the aisles picking up this and that. At one point a nice Persian lady who I used to know at the old folks home with whom I had nice friendly conversations, her being the beauty and barbershop operator, greeted me with a enthusiastic "Well, Hel-LO."
When you are surprised with a greeting that is more friendly than you expect, you are caught off-guard. My ancient brain jumped out of gear and my social skills evaporated. I had slipped into neutral, so to speak.
I was able to make small talk for a few moments, somehow, and then she asked, "Would you like to go for coffee? Oh, I just baked a pie. How does that sound?"
Pie? I wasn't hungry and I answered automatically, "Uh, no thanks."
She shrugged and murmured something and went on.
A few moments later...when my brain rose to the surface for air, I asked myself, "What did I just do?" I looked for the lady , but she was not in sight. Did I mention that I had gone to the market because I was bored and there was nothing to do?
I kicked myself all the way home.