She slammed into her seat across from me with a look of horror on her face.
“Nothing. Something. I made the whole trek to work, my hallway, the courtyard where I saw my neighbor I have a crush on, the walk to the subway, the subway – which was really crowded this morning by the way, the four blocks to our building and then our lobby – all with my zipper down.”
I laughed out loud – I couldn’t help it. A look of pain crossed her face.
“It’s not that big a deal. You wear underwear, you know. And nobody notices that kind of thing anymore.”
“An old man did.”
I laughed again but this time tried to hide it with a quick cover up with my hand.
“Leave it to a senior citizen. They’re always vigilant when it comes to buttons, zippers and other clothing containment devices.”
She looked unamused so I wiped the smile off my face.
“It’s these stupid jeans. The zipper never stays up.”
“Then why wear them?”
“Have you seen my ass in them?”
I started to laugh, but then thought better of it and nodded. She really did look good in those jeans. She got up.
“Okay, I better go to work now. Humiliation aside, I have work to do.”
As she went to leave I cleared my throat and she turned.
“Um…your zipper is down again.”