The scene: It's evening at the front desk of the hotel where I'm spending most of my nights as of late. The crotchety woman who serves our nightly social is looking up the weather channel at our front desk computers and telling me about the temperature in Montana. (20 degrees for a high)
She turns to me and says, "you look pale."
I nod and shrug. Not the first time I'd noticed that myself.
"No, really," she insists.
"Yeah. I'm kind of pale."
"What, you getting your period or something?"
"No, Crotchety Woman," I assure her, "I'm actually just very pale. Worse in the winter."
"Oh," she says and turns back to the monitor, back to the gray skies and cold air of Montana. "Pale face."
She turns to me and says, "you look pale."
I nod and shrug. Not the first time I'd noticed that myself.
"No, really," she insists.
"Yeah. I'm kind of pale."
"What, you getting your period or something?"
"No, Crotchety Woman," I assure her, "I'm actually just very pale. Worse in the winter."
"Oh," she says and turns back to the monitor, back to the gray skies and cold air of Montana. "Pale face."
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