It started with a farmers market on a Saturday morning in October — the kind with heirloom tomatoes and people who actually know what to do with them. Marcus was debating whether to buy a ridiculous amount of olive oil. Celeste was already buying the ridiculous amount of olive oil.

She laughed at him hovering uncertainly by the table. He laughed back. They walked twelve blocks talking about nothing in particular and everything that mattered. He got her number, forgot to buy the olive oil, and went back for it later, hoping she might still be there.

She was. Somehow she was. And here we are — still arguing about olive oil, still walking twelve more blocks, still finding new things to say.