He was a callow busboy with impossible hair; she was the swaggering bartender with sassiness to spare. He stared from the balcony; she caught him looking. She started bringing her own bus tubs to the kitchen after that, hoping he’d be there to flirt with; he washed all her glassware for the excuse to be close to her. There was a forbidden kiss on a grand staircase. Then, he helped her move to a place she never stayed a night, because they were never apart again after that. Around the world, around the neighborhood; up mountain trails and down dark alleys; through sunlit plazas and grimy dives; up all night or up before the sun; whether in Vail or in jail, together always, and now forever.