Their eyes first met above the buffer rack. Margot's steel-blue irises rose to meet Joan's, and Joan couldn't find air to breathe. A short left-right flicker. An invitation? Joan ignored the ambiguity and hazarded a quick nod.
Two weeks, one day, three smiles and a fingertip on a shoulder later, and they were sharing a pitcher of Hefeweizen at Jupiter's, laughing into the warm spring night. The stars had aligned; yin had finally met yang (and mustered the courage to ask her out after the weekly seminar).
Many years later, Margot drunkenly confessed that she had just been scanning her bottle labels for some misplaced azide stock.
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