Outside, the street was busy with people. From beautiful shoppers, to happy tourists, and business types of expensive suits. Normal great New York City.
Miles didn't let go of my hand as we walked through them.
"So," he said, stopping on the sidewalk. "I told you my car is about a kilometer that way." He gestured down the street. "You'd love to walk with me to go get it right?"
"Let's walk. I could use the movement after all that food."
"Good call. I might be in a food coma."
We started down the street, and I noticed things I usually didn't. The way he matched his pace to mine without thinking about it. How he steered us around a puddle left from earlier drizzle of rain. The way his thumb brushed absently across my knuckles.
He told me about the time he got food poisoning in Barcelon
