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“Cool. Tomorrow in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental.”

He hit the “Send” button and thought, “That skydiving thing ain’t nothing in comparison.”

He remembered the feeling quite well. That feeling when he had climbed out onto the little step of the airplane moving through fresh Midwestern air at eighty miles an hour, eleven thousand feet above the ground. Some call it the adrenaline rush, but there is probably more than just adrenaline in play. Inevitability of having to let go and plummet had made his stomach shrink into a golf ball, and he could recall the sensation vividly. …


Yehuda Levi

Chicagoan; foodie; hopeless romantic.

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