She spoke spanish poorly... well, she wrote it poorly. Words like, "no tiende hoy quien Pedro, buene suerte con eso." She was a riddle. None of it made sense to him.

He thought about her brow constantly. They had a flame out. She was drunk, he was awkward and insecure, unable to read signals, he had a beard and hated himself. She was young. He was older and started remembering every small gift he had bestowed upon her.

It was a disastrous office party. He was swingin' hard and she was dodging, skirting, with a feminine guile the likes of which he missed in his own youth. The whole thing was spirited, easy and innocent. This went on for about three years.

She would tell him about the time she did that, and he told her things about things and stuff. They were both working each other from the very beginning.

And then it happened. He went back into the loud German restaurant to use the bathroom, she waited and Sydney took off.

"I ordered more tequila."

"Really? Uh oh..."

"No, it's water." She laughed at his look, she had tricked him again.

They made it about as far as the parking garage.

She gave in.
He gave in.
It all caved in.

Nothing was the same.