hopelessly warm

mid-afternoon, saturday at the bookstore, busy. sunny & warm. a man approaches the counter. he is alone. does that sound or seem ominous? men who are alone, what does that mean? what does that suggest? and does it have to? he is clean cut, meaning cut clean, as if the razor took more than hair, as if a knife could cut the dirt away from you, could cut you clean, couldn't it? the man has a book, exactly one, that he would like to purchase and places it on the counter neatly, his eyes sharp, meeting mine. i often have difficulty reeling people into the transaction, groping into a fog with simple questions trying to pull them out of where they aren't and into what's happening here. so it's notable when people make 
eye contact and his wasn't really friendly but wasn't really rude. i noticed the book had something to do with sex & men, though i tried not to look too closely. i sensed that he just wanted to get the transaction over with, so i didn't try to chat him up. unfortunately, i tried so hard to be cool & casual that i started to feel self-conscious about it, which made me feel nervous, and unfortunately, i often smile when i'm nervous, and when i sensed the smile i rushed to complete the transaction while simultaneously suppressing the weed poking through the cracks in my face, concerned that it would be misinterpreted as finding the subject matter of the book humorous, which i really don't care about at all, which also is untrue. afterwards, i turned to the young woman cashiering beside me and told her that i just had a transaction with someone who bought a book of sexual nature and that i tried to be cool but then i felt self-conscious about trying so hard to be cool. but then i noticed that she looked a little uncomfortable as i hurried to explain this in between transaction and i thought, oh no...