Night before they ordered breakfast for the morning. They paid not for the meal, but for the luxury of sitting across a table from each other in those thick robes, a pot of chocolate between them. They talk. There is so much catching up to do. She is surprised at the ease of communication: In person so much more can be shared, transferred when sound travels not so far and affect other than voice reveals its own opinion. Email and the phone have been poor substitutes.

She decides to take the long way into town, driving him on a curvy two-lane road lined with the reds and yellows of the season. He can't believe the beauty, and she smiles knowing she is the only one in this world who can understand precisely the complexity of his emotion. She is the only one. Because, after four months she still does not take it for granted. She tells him she thinks she never will again.

They buy tickets for Everest and in the time before the show, she takes him to a café she's lately frequented. They eat veggie sandwiches and share a chocolate chip cookie for dessert. He drinks green tea, hers is black. He tells her about China and what he's learned of the Chinese language.

Movie starts, but it is projecting upside down. After a time, someone over an intercom announces that the show has been canceled. No worries, however, the problem will be fixed and all can return again at no extra cost. The two of them return for the very next show. They wait again in the light. She grows edgy, annoyed by all the people around them who become increasingly loud and obnoxious as the time passes. She fears they won't see the film and since this has become so important to her - that she see this film with her love - she clenches her teeth and jitters her knee in anger and hatred toward the sure imbecile who is running the operation behind that small window up in back. This time, when they are let out of the theater, they get their money refunded and receive two free vouchers. This isn't enough for her. Not enough in the least. She finds a manager. Will it show tonight? The manager thinks not. What about tomorrow? Yes. But US West has bought all the tickets for that day and the public will see the movie for free. If you want to see it, you must be here at eight in the morning to get a free ticket. We expect 10,000 people. She demands that they be given tickets in advance for their trouble, for their special circumstances - that he is in town for only two days and they have been inconvenienced enough already. Not possible the manager says, not budging and placing responsibility onto US West: Nothing the manager can do, it is out of her hands. They resolve to try again in the evening. She unloads an essay onto him about the decay of humanity in an increasingly depersonalized world.

They love to shop together and pass the afternoon in that way, just browsing. They look for accommodations for the third night too, but to no avail: Every place is either sold out or unreasonably priced. Worse than Seoul, she says more than once, and 10 million fewer people!

They return to IMAX to find it broken still.

Tonight she feels like pizza, so they travel up to My Brother's. A corner table is theirs and they crowd close together with their backs to the wall, facing the other patrons. She turns the pages of a Stranger they read together. Then, with their mouths full, they discuss all kinds of important and current social and political matters. The delight she feels in witnessing his quiet intelligence is her way of knowing she wants no other partner. This is the best thing.

And then the bath again. Warm swirling water, warm flames of love and light.