Mama Bear

An encounter with the cashier at London Drugs this evening. 

“You have beautiful writing,” she commented as I scrawled my name across the credit card receipt (ran out of contact solution).

“Thanks!” I said, “I’m just trying to hold the pen; my hands are so cold.”

“Here, give them to me,” she grabbed my hands and began warming them with her own.  I couldn’t help but beam at her. 

“I can tell you’re a Mom.”

Her face broke out into a grin.  “You betcha!”


One thought on “Mama Bear

  1. Dean says:

    um, maybe she was hitting on you?

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