Random Acts of Hope

She dressed professionally, wearing a plum-colored fuzzy v-neck sweater that contoured to the swell of a rack I remembered so well, legs encased in a slim pencil skirt that embellished those creamy hips I could imagine naked with a flicker of memory, lips painted fire-engine red and that maniac-inducing fifties pin-up girl look that I'd dismissed as silly when the girls in college wore it - but that made her smoking hot. Down, boy. God damn Charlotte, my ex-girlfriend, had to be here, of al...