The night I met Topher was a windy night, the kind of night when you just know it’s going to rain, but as usual I did not bring my umbrella and I was only five blocks from the office when it started to pour. And the rain is coming down real hard and I do not fancy walking home soaked to my bones so I duck into an awning. Someone else is there taking shelter and he has this cool attitude about him, leaning against the wall making smoke rings as if he was there because that was exactly where he wanted to be and not at all because of the rain. We stand there in silence for a while, each alone. Suddenly he leans toward me and offers me a cigarette and I am surprised because all this time I have been studiously ignoring him; not because I don’t pay mind to strangers but because he has an intriguing face, a vague handsomeness your eyes are drawn to unless you keep them away with conscious effort. I take the the cigarette and smile thanks and he smiles back and I am taken.

-Memories of Topher