Rocky Mountain Affairs

Two

Dairy Queen always reminded me of my childhood. Swimming all day in my parent's pool on the hottest days, and for lunch, we'd walk to get an ice-cream treat. I missed days of innocence. Days where I didn't have to be a grownup. I would have given anything to have just one more day of being a kid. Adulting was nothing more than a trap.

My strawberry shake was the best part of my lunch; although, there was nothing wrong with my burger and cheese curds. As I neared the end of it, I was disappointed in myself for only ordering the small. My hips would thank me later, but it didn't stop me from snagging one of Toby's chicken tenders as he stole a cheese ball from the paper bag on my lap.

We'd chosen to ride out our lunch from the Home Depot parking lot, far enough back in the row where we were the only vehicle around—with the exception of one truck with Gone Wyld Construction plastered across its dust-covered hood, but it was empty. This way, no one could see us stuffing our faces before entering the store to view some air conditioning options.

While Toby rambled on about his dream service counter for the store, my attention wandered off to a small Honda creeping down the next aisle. It parked beside the lone construction truck and killed the engine.

These weren't exactly luxury vehicles parking far off from the busy portion of the lot to avoid be swiped by a cart or another vehicle's door. I found it odd they'd be back here by us. Especially when the woman—totally noticeable by the mess of blonde hair in a ponytail above the front seat—didn't leave the car.

"How do you feel about purple?"

"Love it," I said, keeping my response vague, because I had no clue what in the shop we were about to paint purple. With a tilted head, I took another sip from my shake, wondering if the mystery woman was about to break out her own peaceful lunch.

People watching wasn't normally my thing, but something felt... off.

There was no eating occurring in the vehicle across from us. She didn't flee the car to do some hardware shopping. Instead, she continuously dropped her visor mirror to apply makeup and fix her hair. We were three vehicles in the back of a massive lot. There were at least fifty free parking spaces amongst many rows, and she chose to park beside the only truck back here.

"Lime green!"

"Absolutely not." It didn't matter what Toby wanted to paint; that color was not happening. "It's hideous."

The car was not parked for five minutes before a man had exited the store and made his way to the construction truck. He looked the part—jeans stained and torn from hard labor, a dirty, white tee with the same logo from the truck, and a ball cap to protect is face from the day's heat. The look was completed with a pencil tucked behind is right ear. He paid no mind to us eating our lunch as he tossed his purchase into the truck bed. But instead of leaving, he leaned into his door, removed his cap to reveal his salt-and-peppered short hair, and waited as the Honda door opened.

She had been waiting for him.

"Okay," Toby continued. "No lime. Purple and teal would look fabulous together. Right?"

"Do you think these two are friends?" I completely disregarded the question, tilting my head in the direction of the strangers. They hugged and were now awkwardly standing outside and chatting. They were standing a little too close, making the interaction weird.

Toby looked just as confused by my random question as he should have, but peered to the people in the next row. "Maybe that's his spouse?"

"She's not from Colorado," I pointed to the Nebraska plate on the Honda. "I think we are witnessing an affair."