Kimberly Ramsey was the first person I met when I moved to San Francisco.  I was setting up an account at the video store a few blocks away from my apartment; a perfect first night in the city for a cautious girl like me.  She couldn’t be taller than 5 feet and had a mass of red hair that would make Ariel jealous, but like a Chihuahua, she seemed completely unaware of the consequences of her size.   She was arguing on the phone. 

“No, I want to go out for sushi tonight,” she said, looking at the backs of the new releases.  “Eve, I’m sick of curry,” she sighed.  “I don’t care if you like the waiter.  Get some balls and ask the guy out—wait, really?  He said that?  Manish, right?”  She smiled.  “Eve, what are you talking about?  I love curry.  I’ll meet you at eight.  Tell Ana.”  She snapped her phone shut.

“Curry,” my stomach growled at me.  “Naan!  Chai!”  It added.  It then went on to remind me that the last thing it ate was a bear claw and latte from Starbucks at seven o’clock that morning.  “While you were still in Napa!”  It shouted. 

“Are you going to get that?”  Kim asked me, pointing to the copy of The Wedding Crashers I was holding. 

“Oh, no.  I have it, actually.”  I handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said.  “It’s a great hangover movie, and it is a Saturday night!”  She started to walk to the register.

“Hey,” I stopped her.  “What’s the name of that Indian place you were talking about?”  I asked.  “I just moved here, and I don’t know any good places to eat yet.”  I don’t normally talk to random people, but I was really really hungry, and Indian sounded sooo good.

Kim can change her mind faster than a car on I-5, but she never does so unless it is her decision.  Despite all my cliche country mouse-ness and the fact that I was covered in dust from moving all day, she liked me.  I went out to curry with her, Eve, and Ana that night, and they have been my friends ever since.

Three months later, Eve, Ana and I were at Rosie’s Tavern for the eighth Saturday in a row.  We got there a little bit before the swarm moved in, so we would be sure to snag our favorite booth.  It was right next to the side door, which let in welcome bursts of cool air when people stepped out for a smoke.  Kim stomped in a half hour and one round late.  Her hair was a mess, and she looked pissed.  Ana, Eve and I exchanged a look; we knew what had happened.  Manish.

“I’m never seeing Manish again,” she announced.