She looked at me with those magnificent hazel eyes that bore into my soul. She said in a somewhat playful voice, “I can’t let my elevator partner ...eave. I’ll get us a drink. Come on.” I grabbed her hand on a whim and told her how wasted I was, and I had a meeting the next morning. I have fuzzy memories of what we talked about next and next. But somehow, someway, I was standing with her, holding hands. An Uber pulled up at 2 am, and we got in the backseat. I was tired as shit, so I leaned back. "Prada?" "Oh, uh, thanks." I stammered and smiled sheepishly. "And I wish, it's a Prada knock off I paid $20 for out of the back of a big white truck on the side of the street in Manhattan." I admitted. I never held back about that kind of thing, I was proud of my most-likely-a-knock-off-or-possibly-stolen purse.She laughed and it was adorable. "Wow, right on." She shifted her weight to the other leg and moved her shopping basket to her opposite hand. "It pays to be thrifty and trusting of. More

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