In my own defense, there's no point in carrying a Kleenex on a cold morning, because by the end of a five-mile run it will be a sodden ball. So I had come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, listening to my ipod, and blowing my nose on my sleeve. Only I didn't know a cute guy in a black leather jacket, carrying a framed piece of art, was coming up behind me.
I yelled an apology as he squeezed past. While to the untrained eye, he might have appeared to walk even faster, I'm sure he was secretly smitten.