We chose bourbon over gin, but I got to talk nerdy to him all night long. “Self-directed neuroplasticity” led to “ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny” and that, obviously, led to crashing a Tango class down the street (which nobody found amusing, BTW), and eventually a walk on Mount Tabor.
Our walk in the park led us to a bench above the very reservoir where I had sat with my breaking-open heart so many days last fall. Only, instead of feeling the fibers of my most important muscle tearing apart, I felt his lips on mine.
Somewhere between talking nerdy, getting kissy, and walking away from the park bench, he lost his hat. We looked in the dark for a little bit, but found nothing.
The next morning, I met a friend for a walk…
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