The American dream

During the summer of 1988, I spent a few weeks in London on business. One day, on the Tube between Gloucester Road and Piccadilly Circus, I noticed a beautiful woman whose face looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place her.  She was in the middle of a pack of American tourists.  

As we approached Knightsbridge she got up with the others, on their way to Harrods. As she waited for the doors to be opened, I touched her shoulder lightly and asked: “Sorry, but don’t I know you? You look so familiar!”

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