"I love you," the man sitting on the wall by the state TelOne office shouts as I go past. " I do."
"I love you."
His voice floats behind me like an echo.
"Serious."
"Really," I want to say primly. "I am 37 (help!, how did that happen?) and you, young man, do not have a clue about love. Besides, you don't say serious, you say seriously."
What I do is swap my shopping basket to the other hip and stride to my (mother-in-law's) car.
I am getting old, I fear.
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