How We Met — EncryptingOurLove

It was a Tuesday — because the best stories always start on Tuesdays.

We were at that one coffee shop on the corner of Elm and Main, the one with the squeaky door and the cinnamon rolls the size of your head. I ordered the wrong drink. She corrected the barista. The rest, as they say, is history.

"I'm not saying it was fate. I'm just saying I would have ordered the wrong drink every day for a year if that's what it took."

We talked until the shop closed, then walked until the streetlights came on, then promised to do it again the next day. We did.