I was finishing changing into my gym clothes when a woman walked over to me and said, “I remembered my top today!”

I surreptitiously glanced around while she was putting down her bag, to see if she was talking to someone else.

No one else in the locker room.

“I brought two of ’em this time, since I forgot my top last time,” she clarified.

I made a non-committal noise and tried to finish getting ready, perhaps just a little faster.

She began to change. “Gotta take my bra off. When it gets wet, y’know…”

“Yeah,” I said, and shoved by gym bag in the locker, grabbing my mp3 player and the lock. “Have fun!” I said as I hurried out the door.

Of course she was there when I was done working out. She’d showered and was now finishing her dressing.

“Almost left my clothes in the shower!” she said. “Almost forgot my clothes!”

“That would be bad,” I acknowledged, trying to balance on one foot while trying to put on my pants without touching the locker room floor. She wandered over to the shower to retrieve her clothing. She took several moments in the process, rather surprising considering the size of the locker room.

She finished getting dressed and I had a chance to survey her clothing: a too large, somewhat ratty t-shirt; shorts that were really too small short, all things considered; and support hose, two shades darker than her flesh, and pulled up to her knees.

“Better dry my hair,” she said. “Don’t wanna catch the pneumonia.”

“It seemed quite pleasant out,” I offered, shoving everything in my gym bag.

“I felt a chill when I came in!” she said, and wandered over to the hair dryers. “Don’t wanna get sick!”

“Have a good evening!” I called as I quickly walked out of the locker room.

I checked the thermometer in the car. It was 76 F.

And that’s pretty much exactly how it went.