I first spotted them on a warm, early spring day while I was eating a sandwich on a veranda of a building in the Financial District. She was wearing an off-white dress that billowed in the wind. She pawed at him and fed him grape tomatoes and wiped olive oil from his chin. He wore a pair of tortoiseshell Ray Bans, three days of stubble, a white polo, and rolled up olive khakis that revealed the tip of a dagger tattoo on his right ankle. His loafers looked comfortable. I took a napkin to my mouth and put on my polarized sunglasses from Walgreens. I’d been in the habit of sketching things that caught my eye at lunch and I opened my small sketch book.