Dating : The Parking Lot

“Hey, you.” The woman from across the street yells, her eyes glistening with rage, her hair in a frizzy ponytail — the look of a hurried job. Margo turns to see the woman walking, speedily, in her direction. Margo swivels around to face the angry woman, a Whole Foods bag in each hand, the bag on the right hits her leg as she turns. “Stop fucking my husband!” The woman shouts from the middle of the parking lot — now thirty feet away. Margo looks behind her —…