We cross paths randomly. Walking to and from the gym. In the 10th street car park. 3 blocks from our house. I raise my arms above my head when I see his orange stocking cap fuzzing without my glasses around the corner. Open and close my fists like a three year old wanting to be picked up. He hugs me breathless until I wriggle free to run around him in circles shouting British men want to make me pregnant over and over again until he stops asking what I mean. My laughter rolling like red rubber recess balls around us. I stand still and look into his face, my left eye closed against the sun shouting over his shoulders and stare. The long mean way I have. Full of eyes and lips I've never quite grown into. Too many teeth. He shakes his smile and kisses me afternoon sunlight. All the way home.