“I want to write.” “About what?” “This. Meeting people.” “Okay, so you’ll write about me?” I laugh and say yes. We then realize our groups are going on separate paths tonight, and this will probably be the first and last time we ever talk. He takes my trekking pole from my hand and uses it to grab a nearby branch. He pulls some wild yellow berries for us to eat. It’s sweet and tangy and a special moment. Maybe I will write about him.