I swallow convulsively, my mouth void of any moisture. I stare out the window, the lights passing before my unseeing eyes as you navigate your car through the city. Soft jazz drifts through the speakers, but my ears do not hear. My heart thunders frantically against my chest as I recall my words to you in the restaurant. I marvel at how so simple words can threaten my very air supply, yet change the course of our entire evening, perhaps our very lives. Typically, we would have had our dessert, kissed one another on the cheek, and departed for our respective spouses, but not tonight.