On my way home from a networking event, I returned to my apartment and spotted a man leaning over the communal railing. He was smoking a cigarette and flicking the ashes into the courtyard below. And it was a very pleasant conversation. We chatted on that balcony for nearly an hour, occasionally straining to hear each other over the roar of every window air conditioner unit in the building. While we talked, it was hard to overlook his bright blue eyes and faded accent, courtesy of spending the first ten years of his life in Britain before spending the next 25 in the States. We officially started dating about a week later, and it was pretty awesome.
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