Late afternoon, when the sun hits the water at a slant, you are lingering over a scintillating selection of ceviche and a wicked lobster bisque.
A man, nearby, vying for your attention, whispers into your ear. His Cartagena accent slides and spills, leaving you off balance, oddly excited.
Maybe it’s the sun. You imagine things.
Never mind. You saunter off, imagining how your easy stride looks in the Colombian sun.