An unseasonably balmy evening broke Cleveland's overcast fever. Chatter from west side socialites buzzed through craggy audio of island songs. Potions mixed at Porcos often lead to memorable blurs with unforgettable people. April 8th promised to be exceptional.

On the patio, a woman broke through the shiny bauble decor, exotic rums, and sweet aromas that blushed over cups in heavy mists. She danced to her own rhythm. Her feet were at one with the ground as though each step pushed the Earth into another rotation. A table of three young men sat transfixed on her graceful display. Wine and gold hair braided into fine strands glimmered like silk in the twilight. Her eyes fixed on the one with white pants and a blazing heart.

She approached under a guise. "My friend thinks you're cute and wants to know your name."

"I'm Peter."
"My name is Sara."

Pleasantries turned into a happy hour at Fat Cat's cafe. Conversation about space over sloppy chicken sandwiches into a gentle first kiss next to Sasha (Sara's car). A flutter grew inside them like the feeling at the top of a colossal roller coaster. Salsa in SoCal, Trailblazing in Oregon, or Mai Tais in Hawaii. Peter and Sara were inseparable. Partners together, each day a new adventure in a lifetime of love.