I was working late underneath the football stadium — stacking chairs and rolling them into storage. My head hung low, I wiped beads of sweat with a tired forearm — a frame in which I saw a tiny blonde across the room. Her blue eyes splashed out from behind her oversized black apron, pale skin, and bobbed, straight blonde hair. She spoke warmly in muffled tones with a co-worker. I averted my shy eyes and resigned to finishing. With a key in the door — chairs locked up, I stole another glance. Was she waiting?

I was leaving for Europe in two weeks and would be there all summer. Desperation fraught with dangerous hope: it was in the stale air of the banquet hall — spilling out from the kitchen after the wealthy patrons had driven home drunk. It was the sound of the glazed oak pink cushioned chairs screeching across the tile storage floor. Our shared weariness dialed the wavelength.

Doors slammed shut, keyless entry revved engines, the lights dimmed, and we were alone.

“Hi.”

“Hello, there.”

We stood four feet apart listening to the hum and pop of high wattage bulbs petering out. She dropped a folded piece of paper into my hand. My fingers worked it over while still staring into her eyes in the fading light. Such a shy gesture was betrayed by the glint in her eyes.

She’s a good witch, I thought, driving home. I flicked on the dome light and unfolded the note: Jaime — 348-2394.

The gravity of our serendipitous introduction never escaped. It settled on our shoulders no matter how fast we ran through the park under the stars and sprinklers. We drank upside down margaritas and passed out in the grass.Chasing rum with more rum, we scampered — clinging to our weeks…our days.

Six hours before the sunrise flight, my cell lit up. She begged me to drive one last time. I saw her eyes glowing in the dimming light. She was listening to Fire and Rain.

The plane did not crash, but I felt as if it had. I sat cross-legged and jet-lagged in Austria reading Kurt Vonnegut to stave off the restlessness — the feeling of spiritual loss. I knew I had died and would live to die again.