She didn't call it a date, but what else would you call it? You know, as I look back on that time now, with the benefit of so much hindsight I can see...other ways that I could've handled it better. And it literally makes me tremble at the memory. I'm not sure why. And it arouses me again all these years later. I don't remember the details of what she wore or how she prepared for the date. Maybe I was still at work and didn't observe that. But I do remember how the evening went in other ways. I. ‘If I have a chance, I’ll IM you sometime this weekend. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you Monday.’ ‘Okay. Safe travel.’ He held my car door for me as I settled into the driver’s seat, then closed the door and walked away toward the far end of the lot. I started my car and watched Charles go until he went around the corner of the building. Then I drove home, showered and dressed, and tried to convince myself I didn’t mind the thought of spending the day alone. I went into the chat room and was. More

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