Woman on the Verge, Meeting Prince Charming

   Seemed I'd finally found my Prince Charming.
   We met on a camping trip planned by mutual friends.
   I arrived late, the passenger of a lengthy car trip with Mr. Camptastic, who discussed the merits of a framed vs unframed (or is it vice versa?) backpack, while I fell asleep.
   My gal pal, Shira greeted me upon arrival, then introduced me to Justin. The two of them had set-up a tent for me. I had no camping equipment of my own. Still don't. [I bring the s'more ingredients whenever I camp. That's about it. That's all you need, I figure.]
   Here's the scene from my to-be-published book, Woman on the Verge of Paradise.
   I hope you enjoy. Have a good week, as we ask March, "Why must you leave so soon?"     
   Take care, my friends.~~~~~~

   Shira led me to a picnic table in the middle of the campsite.

   There, a man focused peacefully on an open book that was propped against a lantern. He appeared short and with fair features.     

   Justin wore a tan cowboy hat and dark leather jacket zipped up just enough to reveal a silver Jewish Star that graced a modest chain.  I’ve never been drawn to the Boot Barn type before, but he looked like a nice guy. And he gets bonus points for being Jewish, I thought.

   Shira broke his silence. "Justin, this is Robyn. Robyn, Justin."

   He placed the opened book face down. Justin’s eyes twinkled of an amber or hazel, I couldn’t quite tell at night. His smile was warm, as was his handshake.

   I looked down at his book and immediately knew that a connection with Justin not only invited, but required, my banter. "'Fabulous Small Jews by Joseph Epstein?' Talk about a short book. Are you in there?"

   Shira chuckled at my quip and looked towards the tents, likely contemplating leaving us alone.

   "I don’t know yet," he smirked. "I’m still reading." 

   "What’s that?" Shira asked, pointing at a mound of something resting near the fire-pit several yards away.

   Justin and I watched her walk over to it. Shira giggled, while she lifted two little things that looked like stunted logs.

   "Well, there’s a bootless little cowboy running around these here parts," she joked, walking back to us with a pair of children’s cowboy boots.

   "Oh, those are so cute and tiny!" I remarked.

   "Might they be yours, Miss Robyn?" Justin asked.

   "Very funny, Mr. Fabulous Small Jew."

   And so it had begun.

   At last.