You never thought you’d get this far, but the wood-paneled bar with neon-lit signs has dissolved into your apartment balcony, where she’s hungry and waiting. Frying up a grilled cheese in the kitchen you realize you’re not kids anymore, so you’re trying to channel your inner Thomas Keller, chopping fresh rosemary and sage, sizzling bacon, spreading pepper jelly. She hand-rolls a cigarette as you split the sandwich. Miles away, thunder rolls. The air turns earthy and sweet. Let it fill the space between you until the rain begins.