An Overture

In a street on the outskirts, where a crowd has never shuffled, a trickle of passers-by being its usual traffic, there pass at this moment, only two individuals along its length. And one of them, a busy small woman clutching the knot of her headscarf at her chin, is making an overture towards the other. Both are women and both are for the moment walking dogs on straight leads, a similarity which the headscarf-woman obviously wishes to make much of, wishes to use as a lure towards a gab, and obviously fully intends to build up into some extraordinary and interesting coincidence which it plainly cannot support. The other woman (who had been coming towards her on the same side) now steps off the pavement and sets across the empty road at an oblique angle. The little dog belonging to the headscarf-woman, as much enervated by the prospect of a meeting with a fellow mutt as is her mistress at the prospect of one with a fellow stroller, barks and leaps excitedly and strains at the lead all the more. Her owner, pleased with her pet's enthusiasm, and seeing it as an easy conversation opener not to be missed, grins and pulling against her own imaginary lead, leans towards her new friend in the road, and particularly towards her slightly averted face. She is ready to impart the little comment she has quickly thought-up, but the other is the more determined and manages to ignore the yapping mongrel and its owner. Thankfully, the danger is passed.