" That guy on TV, the one that got shot. He your husband?" Yes, well, sort of."The man laughed. "You can't be 'sort of' married. Either you are or you...aren't. It's like being sort of pregnant."I stopped pacing. I really didn't want to talk to this guy, who obviously only wanted to get into my proverbial shorts. "We aren't 'sort of' married. We _are_ married, he just wasn't my husband when I married him."They man frowned. "I don't get it, but it certainly sounds like an interesting story. Can I. Do you have them in my size?," I asked, rousing her from her reverie. She glanced at my feet before going into the stock room to retrieve the style I requested. When she returned, I had taken a seat in one of the chairs at the back of the store facing the back wall. Some men like trying shoes on without assistances, but she sensed that I wanted her to assist me. She knelt before me, glancing up into my green eyes and smiling briefly before she turned her attention to the fitting. I smiled, and. More

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