crushes it. People say things they
don’t really mean all the time. I need to focus on our conversation here in the
moment, not what could be in the future.
The man is clearly intelligent and cultured, knowing all about the artists, the
architecture, and the history of the Louvre itself. After going weeks without
having anyone to talk to, our conversation is oddly comforting. I find myself
asking him questions, wanting to know more about him and his interests. We
segue into other topics, such as our favorite films, foods, and his favorite
American microbreweries—one in Vermont in particular. Although he avoids
anything too personal, like his name, he answers me and seems just as interested
in keeping the conversation flowing.
I’m struck suddenly by how oddly date-like our dinner
