"I have a color scheme!"
He considered this. "Orange," he said.
"Orangey-red," I agreed.
"Orangey-red . . . " Then he moved up to pay. I studied the Harry Potter DVD display until it was my turn at the register. The cashier asked my color-analysis buddy if he needed help carrying his purchases to the car. He told her that he thought he would be OK. As he picked up his bag, he turned slightly toward me with a grin, as if about to say something, but I was greeting the tired college student behind the register, and he decided to move on.
I hope that next time he decides to talk to the cute girl in the supermarket line. Just because I have a Sharif, that doesn't mean she will.