Every time I saw that wry smile crawl across Nabeel’s face—the kind of smile that turned one corner of his mouth up higher than the other—I knew what would follow.
“You want to get outta here and grab a bite to eat?” he’d ask. But it wasn’t really a question. He’d smile sideways at me because we’d already eaten, probably just an hour or so earlier. But new flavors were beckoning us both. Often this would happen when we’d be at a conference, sometimes even an event at which we were both speaking. I’d feign resistance, only to cave in the moment he’d crane his neck back, look at me through the bottom of his eyes and say, “C’mon!”
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