Don’t tell me I’m crazy when I tell you that I’m in love with the one leaning back against the conference table and chain smoking, the one I am face-to-face with right now, at the top level of this skyscraper, the centerpiece of our sprawling financial district, where clouds are at eye level and robots chain smoke and love becomes real.
I don’t know smoke from clouds, but I know I’m in love. And to think, I came up here looking for a job.
Instead I found love. One résumé and one elevator ride later. Up into the heavens.
I’m not crazy.
I’m in love.