The guy behind the counter at Blockbuster smiles at me.
“Sex in the City tonight?”
I’m still holding onto my almost-rented DVD, and I kind of give him a weird look. I wonder if he’s mistaking me for some regular. Well, some OTHER regular.
He must have noticed my raised eyebrow.
“Sorry, I’m just usually good at guessing people’s movie tastes. Something with Meg Ryan?”
Now I’m feeling a little weird about what’s in my hand. I shake my head again.
“I swear I have you pegged for a romantic comedy girl.”
“Nope. Serial killer girl.” I put Dexter (season two, disk two) on the counter. He looks disappointed and maybe a little afraid. He wishes me a great night a little too earnestly.
Come on. I don’t really look like a romantic comedy girl, do I?

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