Saturday, May 30, 2009


We saw each other—as was the cliché—across a crowded room. A celebration for some sporting team we both happened to stumble into. Each of us trying to find our way home, taking a shortcut through the hotel lobby, running straight into a wall of red and white. Somebody grabbed my shoulder and tried to see above the crowd. Someone fell backwards into you, spilling warm beer down your leg. We both moved away, tried to find some room in the crowd, caught each other’s eye. Both thought that maybe the other was here for the sports team, and that would be a pity. Tried to communicate with hand gestures and facial expressions. Are you—is this—does it? And both of us, nodding, yes, let’s get out of here, together.

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