Sarah. She is a friend of my sister's, and a woman who wanted to learn how to shoot a Glock 27. That was enough for me.
It's not an uncommon thing in this day and age (especially a sun-drenched, smog-soaked day and age in Salt Lake City Utah, Anno Domine 2012).
My sister, subconscious yenta that she is, had told me before hand that this particular recent friend of hers was tall, blonde, crop-haired and masculine, the type of person that I find both intimidating and beautiful. Sure enough, she was "striking," which is straight male shorthand for "beautiful warrior woman."
By a strange coincidence we ran into each other later.
She didn't spare me a second look (and I don't blame her). Warrior woman, I would cook for you. I know how to keep the hearth warm and some good-god-damned meat slow roasting.
Lost connections. Ships in the night.