What were the odds of me being seated next to Maris?

Ms Willowy leaned my way. “Excuse me,” she said, “but haven’t we met before?” Fat chance, I thought. Ms Willowy might have at least dangled a gratuitous hint, like maybe “in junior high?” or “that time in Timbuktu?” But as no clue was forthcoming and coquetry didn’t seem to be her jam, I concluded she must be sincere yet uncertain.

MS WILLOWY BY CLAYTO…

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