Fate led her to a strange place, with a burden she could not bear. It started out simple enough, a day away from the burbs and into the city for fun with an old friend from college. A boy then, maybe a man now, but always a boy in her mind. She arrived at their old lunch spot, a burrito shop in the mission. But he wasn't there, and he was always early. Must be tied up in traffic she thought. 10 minutes passed, then 20, then 45. He wasn't answering his cell phone, text messages equally ignored. Hunger took over and she ordered two fish tacos, scarfed them down, and wanted more. Tossing the wrapper in the trash and leaving through the side door she did not notice the man with his back to the wall stand and begin to follow her. What to do now, she thought. It was a beautiful day after all and she hadn't been in the city for so long. So she decided to head down to the wharf, mingle with the tourists, see and be seen. Living in the burbs she didn't get much male attention, at least from men her age. But here in the city she felt like she "fit" and she must admit she didn't mind a look or two. And she was getting her share. She got lost in the crowd at the wharf, soaking up the sun, the fishy smell, and the action of people moving about. She realized she was dying in the burbs, that she needed to make a change. So right then, at that instant, she decided to leave her husband and move to the city. A snap decision, yes, but a final one. If the tacos were not so good, the sun not so bright, the attention not so warm, the same decision would have passed her like a warm wind. Months pass and she now lives alone in a flat in the city. A man has been courting her, but she's not ready to be courted yet. Well, that what she says. In fact, she is more than ready to be courted, she damn well wants to give in, but she's trying to do the right thing and wait a while until her divorce is final. Damn that Catholicism. One day she receives a call, it's from the police. They ask her about her friend from college. Says they found his cell phone. She was the last incoming call, the last text message. In fact, she was the only number in the call history. That's impossible, she thought, I only called him once a week or so and just to catch up. The police ask her is she knows where he is. She has no idea, thought maybe he just went non communicato. Wouldn't be the first time. The police say they found his phone by the bridge. She's a bit stunned, confused. Suddenly her world closed in, everything gets small, and all she can see is her hands. Worn hands. Too worn for a white collar girl. She remembers that day on the wharf and thinks of him. And wonders about her life transforming moment. And wonders about his.