It was a nice conversation, and then we got to campus and realized that he hadn't brought his car keys, so I let him take mine, and we made plans to meet up after classes so I could get them back, because I'd be driving home earlier, and he'd take the train. And I ran up to my office to finish up a bit of work before class. But when I came down, I found him waiting outside the little cafe in my building, with his coffee and a croissant and my keys. And then he walked me to my class, which happened to be next to his office's building, and we talked all the way there, this time about how you grade an intro-level creative writing class, how an A is pretty clear (good enough writing that you'd recommend them for the next level up), but B and C get quickly fuzzier. And then we were at class, and I had to go.
There's no real point to these stories -- just that after sixteen years and eleven months, I'm still never bored with him. I could talk to Kev forever. Which is a good thing, since that's pretty much what I've signed up for here, or at least for the version of forever that applies to my life. It's nice to be reminded that you made a good -- no, an excellent choice.
Clearly, I'm feeling maritorious this evening... :-)