“Want to text me the address and time?” I asked. He looked at me in indecision then and grimaced. He rubbed the stubble on his chin with his hand. “Wait here,” he said. He turned and walked back into the diner. A minute later he reappeared with a napkin that read an address in the handwriting I had long ago memorized: “welcome anytime, but 4 would be perfect.” I looked at him strangely. “I’m seriously never texting you any important information ever again,”
