"I was twenty-four when I met you. You were twenty-six," I said. "It was my friend's birthday. A bar. You were at the next table over and came to ask for a light. I didn't have one, but you walked away with my drink."
He watched me.
"Later you added me on WhatsApp. Asked me what that drink was called," I said. "I told you it was a Long Island Iced Tea. You asked if it was any good. I said it was fine, just hits you later."
"I remember," he said.
"What do you remember?"
"I remember the white dress you wore that day." His voice was low, almost reverent. "I remember your hair was curly, and when you smiled, there was a dimple on the right side. I remember turning back to look at you as I left, and you happened to be looking at me too."
I froze.
"I remember all of it," he said. "Every single detail. What you were drinking, what you were wearing, what you said. I remember everything."
