Ramona stood in the grocery line, clutching her microwave popcorn and hot chocolate mix morosely.
"Adrien Grody and Mysterious Woman Disappear Into the Night!" a lurid headline cackled from the nearest tabloid mag.
"Igh." said Ramona. She turned the magazine around. The back cover promised a thrilling expose on the Red-Shoe'd mystery woman's Martian heritage and linked her to the unexplained death of a U.N. ambassador that had been dating Martha Stewart.
"Are last week's events an isolated blip on the celebrity radar, or does the Red Shoe Menace mean to strike again?" the article tag read. "Watch out, Adrien!" A grainy photo of Adrien Grody in sunglasses and smoking a cigarette appeared beside the text.
"Lady, if you're gonna be in line, be in line." said a voice behind her. A fat man with a "Dodgers" shirt and a 6-pack of Budweiser’s was glaring at her. "Read your magazines at home."
Ramona went red and scurried to the self check-out.
"I'm going to go home and eat nothing but pop-corn, and drink myself sick with hot chocolate and watch 'Lawrence of Arabia' 48 times, or as many times as needed for me to forget that this whole thing ever happened." Ramona thought to herself.
"Leave it to me to make a fool of myself in front of my #1 Hollywood crush. It could have been anyone else, but noooo..."
With no company but misery, she walked slowly out to her car and thought of the long, blank hours she had waiting for her when she got home. She had already taken down her 7 posters of Adrien Grody. Something even deeper than humiliation ached inside whenever she saw his picture - an ache that even Swiss Miss had not, as yet, been able to assuage.
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