The karaoke bar is the last place I expect to find him because it's the last place I expect to find myself but here we both are on a Friday night at the Blue Moon downtown with a bunch of uncles and aunties in their Aloha shirts and muumuus staring at us as if to say “What are you doing here, you too young to be here,” and we are, all our friends are at the cool places in Chinatown, or the bars in Waikiki that serve $1 beer on Fridays, or at somebody's house party—this is where everyone goes in college—this is where we would be too but instead we're at the bar with the old folks of Honolulu because we both picked the last place we thought the other would be and because we both heard from Charlie that the Blue Moon doesn't card and so we walked here after class hoping to drown our sorrows and now stand frozen facing each other for the longest time until a waitress comes and sits us to a table and he says: "Want to share some soju?" and to spite him I order the kind that comes in half a watermelon mixed with juice and you have to scoop into shot glasses and it tastes sweet and we drink it really fast and then order another and go home together and then the next day we have to break up all over again.