Ronnie zagged past the woman with the twin stroller, but let his eyes drift down. The woman across the street rolled her eyes. But he was not interested in looking down anyone’s shirt at the moment. As he looked into the stroller, he caught the movement of a twin’s foot as it kicked off the corner of his blue blanket. The other blanket was pink.

“What a couple of cuties,” Ronnie blurted out as he stopped. The woman paused and looked him up and down for a minute to evaluate his interest. His gaze remained fixed on the twins in the stroller. She smiled.

“Thank you.” The woman’s whispered response holds an aftertaste of a Midwestern accent.

Looking up at the woman now, Ronnie cocks his head to the side to ask, “Where are you from, originally?”

“Oh, is it that bad?” the accent intensifies when she asks a question, or when she’s nervous. “Tennessee, actually.”

“Wow, that’s a long way, right?” Ronnie asks her.

“Well, yeah, yeah it is,” she says.

“I’m Ronnie.” He holds out his hand for her to shake, and is surprised when she does.

“Stephanie,” she offers with a vigorous up and down of her elbow.

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