I failed again to produce the tortillas of my tongue’s dreams. 
The evening was nearly wasted—and by wasted I mean spent making jewelry—until I went to Thais’ room and reminded her that tonight is her last Saturday in Paris and we had yet to go to that jazz café together. So we donned our coats, gloves, scarves and walked 100 feet to Café Universal. The jazz was wonderful but we stood because neither of us had money to spend on drinks. After several songs, our exit was cut short by the introduction of “Ne Me Quitte Pas,” a famous song that we both love…or thought we loved. In the middle of the song, the bartender caught me staring blankly at the glowing drinks she was preparing. When I looked over to Thais, I realized that she was doing the same thing; slightly leaning forward, hands in pockets, eyes glazed over, head tilted to the right, drooling…not the drool. I bumped her and we tumbled outside laughing.