by Shelby Van Pelt Aram/Unsplash We were too cool for holidays that year. In a borrowed pickup, we drove west. We cursed the cost of gas and picked at convenience-store sandwiches. We fishtailed on an icy interstate somewhere in Oklahoma. By some miracle, we skimmed the snowbank and swerved back onto the highway, unscathed. You believed in miracles. We had met, two weeks earlier, in the laundry room of our co-op. Sparks flew over a loaned quarter. A discussion of the foreign