I first met him when I was only thirty-six. I was in the fabric store carrying a coat when he skittered in. He was wearing a metallic red pith helmet, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his spine, but I pretended not to notice.
I was about to set the coat down when he sailed beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the coat right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to weep.
After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the bar for a Shirley Temple. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.
At the bar, I learned that his name was Xavier, and that he was a translator. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a bicycle messenger.
I guess it was love at first weep. Some might say we had bird feeders in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was nineteen years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still weeping for each other.