I told her I was only there for a week, visiting aunts and uncles and cousins; she told me she was couch-surfing on a year off from art school. "Mental health reasons," she'd said, and I'd wondered how seriously she'd meant it.

She knew all the good places to eat, all the nondescript apartment buildings where parties were sure to occur, all the romantic spots to stand and hold hands; I had specie in my pocket and didn't hit her, unlike her ex.

I wonder if that week was anywhere near as important to her as it was to me.