I caught the dance of reflected ribbons of fountain-bounced party light on your jaw. You were holding a cheap plastic cup a little too tightly. It buckled slightly in your hand. You were chatting with someone taller than you. Behind me Kate dropped a bottle. You pinged your head in my direction, and noticed me looking. You smiled. You craned your head back up and guillotined your conversation. And you came to sit on my bench. “Nice bench.” You said. It was a very nice bench.