I passed by this girl and her grandpa at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. Grandpa was in Ye Olde Pearl Shoppe investigating either the pearls or the perfect curvature of the shopkeeper’s audacious cleavage. In the meantime, the granddaughter was far away, in her own place.
What could have been on her mind? The upcoming grammar quiz? The incontestable existence of Cooties in this world? The relative merits of Rocky Road vs. Mocha Almond Fudge ice-cream? I don’t know… but I do know that not even amazing cleavage can convince me to buy pearls.