Last night you bought me tequila shots, shaken with ice so they were slightly chilled. I grew up in the borderlands but it never tasted like this. We talked for hours. I liked the sound of your voice and the tenor of your stories. Did you know we would see each other again? I sit here in the deserted lobby bar, tired, worn out. My colleague, across from me, taps the table and says, definitely, we absolutely need french fries. I smile in agreement, noticing you stride from the elevator. You see me and walk over and ask if you could join us. I push a chair out and gesture for you to sit. My colleague looks at you and I stammer out an introduction. Nothing has happened but I know that it will. I am embarrassed over my future actions. It makes me lose my words. You turn to her and start to build bridges, connecting countries, islands in deep blue seas that hold shared memories of food and place. You nod and laugh and she does the same. She asks if you want some our fries and when you nod again, she goes to the bar to order more. This is when you turn to me. You lean towards me, your hand lightly on my arm. You ask, are you okay? and your eyes feel like they are searching mine. Yes, I say, why? You say, I don’t know. You seem quiet, not like yourself. I smile at you and then you shrug like it’s not a big deal, like it happens all the time that someone sees me… like really sees me.