Cafe Jake

Just off Times Square. One p.m. A block-long corner deli, packed. Seemingly youngish corporate-lunch-crowd misfit strolls the multiple salad-bar aisles. Stops. Tim Gunn, like inches from her face.

J.

Tim Gunn!

T.G.

(totally dapper, strong presence)
Yes.

(Pause.)

J.

It's so good to see you.

T.G.

And it's so good to see you.

(J. exits.)

*
God, I wish I hadn't been wearing that used rag-of-a-looking royal blue wool hat with the piles on it I bought for $5 after I lost my new expensive one earlier this winter. I think it looks kind of cool, though.