Disturbing and disconcerting, like saddles on cattle or a rattlesnake rattle, her enthusiasm in the early morning gloom of the medical center lobby, a large and slightly dark room, put me in a pensive and slightly defensive frame of mind. The shirt was expensive.
“Nice Aloha shirt,” she shouted across the lobby, which was populated by the lady, her daughter, my wife and myself.
I said, “Thank you,” thinking she was referring to something much darker than my cream colored Tommy Bahama silk Hawaiian shirt. I did not like that woman. I did like the shirt.