Have you ever seen two Asians hug it out? I have a theory that when this rare occurrence does happen a pony becomes a unicorn.
On another note, have you ever seen a real live unicorn?
Today, when Judy said her good-byes to me, she held out her arms in a limp offering. "Okay, if I don't see you in the two weeks before you go," she said, her arms out like Frankenstein's monster, probably with the same discomfort. She tried to put on a brave face.
"Well," I reasoned. "If I don't hug you, does that mean, I'm more likely to see you before I go?"
Judy considered this, dropping her arms. "True," she granted. "But we're really busy. It's only two weeks," she pointed out.
I had to give her that and took a few tentative steps towards her, arms outstretched to meet her.
She pulled back. "I'm sorry," she said, probably because I scowled pretty hard at her. "It's just really open here." She looked at my quiet street with the tidy houses. We eyed a few windows nearby. All blinds. "I feel like someone's watching us," she whispered.
I didn't really understand why she felt self-conscious giving me a good-bye hug, but her paranoia was infectious. I looked at my neighbor's house to the left, then the right. "Yeah." I agreed, feeling slightly ill at ease with how quiet my street became. We heard a cough a few houses down and jumped. "It's okay," I said, looking. "I think that he's not there anymore."
She shrugged, holding up her arms, and I took a step towards her to meet them. But there was a yell from the same direction as the cough. Apparently, the guy left his keys on the table, and it broke whatever attempt at a hug we were about to commit.
We smiled uncertainly at one another.
With shifty eyes, "Yeah..."
An agreeing nod, "best not."
So two Asians said their good-byes without a hug.
And a pony continued to prance without a horn on its head.