I shoulda stopped

—AfterCare exercise regimen completed in Thompson Hospital’s Physical-Therapy department……..
Yr Fthfl Srvnt exited the building. Per COVID-19 I can’t exit through the lobby; I have to go out a side entrance.
In the lobby are the “temperature-ladies,” the ones who take my temperature, and pepper me with 89 bazilyun questions per COVID-19.
The ones there yesterday were not the ones I usually see. The ones I usually see are both pretty, especially ******.
****** is extraordinarily pretty, but doesn’t have the gorgeous eyes her sidekick has.
I didn’t see ******, but I did see her sidekick elsewhere. Her name is *****.
“I do recognize you!” I shouted. All we did was say a few words to each other, the equivalent of “I recognize you, and you recognize me.”
WOW! (She smiled at me, pretty eyes twinkling.)
Exiting I looked inside the lobby to see if I saw ****** or *****. —I was outside in the parking-lot.
“Is that ******?” I asked myself. “Eyes look right but her hair looks wrong. The color is right, but it looks longer than what I usually visualize.”
Also, it wasn’t *****, but a different sidekick with hair dyed red = KEE-YUCK!
So I kept walking toward my car, then hesitated.
“What if it was ******?” I thought to myself. “Maybe I should go back and look.”
“DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!” Don’t let her down. Let ‘er know you recognize her — that’s all it is, but she’s worth it. She’s gonna like the fact you recognized her. (She always does, and I mucked up pretty ****** a few weeks ago.)
I looked inside a few seconds, our eyes met, and ****** waved at me!
“It is ******,” I said to myself. “Hooray-hooray-hooray!” I sure am glad I walked back.
I then went to my supermarket, and then drove homeward after shopping.
I went to my bank to get cash out of their ATM machine. After that I pass the kennel where I used to daycare my dog when he still was alive.
****’s car was parked outside the kennel, but I didn't stop; I kept going. And I shoulda stopped.
**** is my cute little college-age friend I thought I’d never see again in my entire life; that kennel told her to get another job.
She’s a millennial, and I’m old enough to be her grandfather.
She’s only age-20, but when she smiles at me, she’s extremely cute.
“No pretty girl will smile at you!” So when she does, it knocks me flat! —It’s a backhanded way of telling her she’s pretty; and she eats that up.
She deserves it too, she’s a good girl.
And so is ******.
Both are class acts: neither smoke nor do drugs, or drink or gamble or hang out in bars.
They both remind me of my wife, who I lost to cancer almost nine years ago.
Pure as the driven snow.
Both are different from my wife, and ****** is extremely pretty.
“You’re gonna get married someday,” I would tell ******; “if you haven’t already. And it won’t be me, since I’m way over the hill — although I don’t remember a hill.
I hope that lucky dude knows what he’s getting = one of the classiest ladies I ever met.”
So I sure am glad I went back to recognize ******, and I shoulda stopped for ****. Both should know I really like ‘em! (Both seem to like that I do.)