Humanity: Andrés

This post is the second in a series. (Please read this post first, if you haven’t yet!)
Also note: the photo is from a different, less smoky day. 🙂

The plan for our second date changed a bit because of the wildfires and resulting poor air quality. Instead of a long city walk in hilly SF, we decided to make cookies and go mini golfing. I agreed happily; less exertion, more baked goods. On our way to Urban Putt, you said you needed something for the cookies. I think it was parchment paper? We found it in a tiny tienda and bought it. But you didn’t want to carry it, you told me.

“It’ll be a test of humanity,” you said, casually setting the item in a potted plant in the Mission District. I questioned you briefly, then continued walking along beside you, our arms linked. (You told me you didn’t like holding hands.)

Mini golfing was fun. We managed some deep conversations in between holes. You beat me, but not by much.

I had forgotten about that hidden item by the time we made our way back. You hadn’t. It was still there.

“See?” you said, “Our faith is restored. For now.”

I loved that you believed in humans. In their—in our—general goodness.