She knew I was there but continued to serve drinks and banter with her customers in at least 3 languages as I sipped the potent beer from Quebec that provided the sign in the window. I was in no hurry, I had been looking for her for three years, since that night in the Snail Shell on the waterfront in Halifax.

A nasty early spring sail up from the Caribbean had me and my crew in mind of something more than the Royal Nova Scotia could offer.

It was late, or early, depending on your starting time, and we were slouched around a table piled high with empty bottles, not speaking, just comfortable together when I heard the voice. The voice that would transform my being and the path of my life.

She wasn’t beautiful, her nose was just a little bit too thin and long, straight light brown hair just brushing her shoulders. Not unattractive, just nondescript – until she turned and looked at me. Her eyes weren’t human, more like a cat’s, an intense green that I had never seen, then she blinked and her eyes were brown