I gave them an affectionate squeeze as I watched for the traffic to slow so we could cross the street. Then, all at once, everyone started to move. I felt myself trapped in the rush of bodies like a leaf caught in the wind; I tightened my grip and turned to look at Miranda just as I realized my fingers had closed around nothing but cloth.

I glanced down at my own hand to see it holding her glove. I looked up, hoping to find her only a few people behind, but there were so many faces and none of them were hers.

I called her name once, twice as the crowd crushed me towards the other side of the street. It was a blessing because if they hadn’t I’d have stayed in the center of the road, screaming for Miranda as the impatient New York traffic grew tired of my antics and eventually ran me down.