We are a few drinks into our evening, and conversation is loosening. Russell met Shawn last week. An inevitable encounter on the bike lane, us cycling home from climbing, Shawn headed home from a solo ride in the park.

“I see how people are drawn to you. Of course he enjoys spending time with you. You have a brightness that is appealing.”

He pauses. And then resumes. “You’ll just have to let me know if it becomes something other than friends.”

“He’s married.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything.”

He’s not wrong.

They shook hands that evening, the sun setting on English Bay, cyclists whirring past. We all made small talk for a minute and then parted ways. Both of them acting essentially normal.

I keep thinking about them shaking hands and the surreal feeling of being at the intersection of a Venn diagram.