Every grocery run, without fail, I end up totally in love with a fellow Foodie. Sometimes it's another customer, sometimes in an employee, but one thing's for sure: his Chaco tan is no joke.
  1. It starts out innocently enough.
  2. I am simply looking at an array of fresh peaches/organic granola/coconut water, minding my own business.
  3. When out of no where,
  4. All of a sudden,
  5. His golden tan/pale white/smooth dark skin catches my eye.
  6. He is tall/medium/short, and his strong calves/bony knuckles/white teeth are striking.
  7. Pretending to be enraptured with nearby fair trade bracelets/quinoa bread/essential oils, I watch him glide across the poured concrete floors.
  8. He is beautiful/glorious/everything I've ever wanted but never known until just now, at this Whole Foods, on a Tuesday/Thursday night/Sunday mid afternoon.
  9. I let him catch me looking at him/smiling at him/taking a picture of him.
  10. He smiles back/walks away/suddenly has a very important phone call.
  11. I giggle to myself,
  12. Here he is,
  13. The man of my dreams,
  14. The father of our future children, Spencer and Indigo.
  15. He sips his mammoth coffee/swell water bottle/la Croix, unaware of his unavoidable future with me.