Nice Look

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“You know, I could do with some Indian food,” I thought, grabbing my hat and jacket and heading out the door. Andy doesn’t like Indian food, so every once in a while I’ll hit the buffet while he’s at work.

I headed out of the building and crossed the street. There wasn’t much of anyone around, apart from good looking guy in his 30s, who was headed my way.

“Nice look,” he growled in my ear as he passed me.

Nice look? What exactly did that mean? Was he admiring my jacket? Insulting my hat? Did he think I’d given him a “look”?

It’s an odd, odd world out there…