My name is Sal. I work in a box factory in Manhattan. When I first got here, this city seemed sane to me. Now -- I'm not so sure.

A woman walked into my office the other day wanting records of her company's invoices. She was stunning. I offered her coffee while she waited for me to look up the records, and we really hit it off.

Her name was Darla. I asked her to dinner that night and, much to my delight, she accepted.

We met at a cozy little Italian place for wine and pasta. Things went...