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waiter led Micah and Angel to the table farthest away from them.
    They spent a few minutes studying the menus and discussing the choice of wine, and it was easy, the familiar ritual of so many business dinners calming Micah’s nerves. When the waiter appeared to take their order, Angel disarmed Micah completely, asking the man to please make sure there was not a trace of shellfish anywhere near Micah’s food.
    But then the wine was served and the waiter was gone. The reality of the situation slowly seeped back into Micah’s consciousness, making him tense again.
    “Tell me about yourself,” Angel said; his easy smile was reassuring.
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Anything you feel like telling me. I’d like to get to know you better.”
    Micah fumbled for something to say, straightening the utensils to occupy his restless hands. “Um, I grew up in Marshall, about three hours west of the Cities. I came here for college nine years ago, and I’ve never wanted to leave. I majored in business and started my own company in my junior year. I’m an information security consultant and trainer. I like to cook and play the piano and I’m great at jigsaw puzzles, but I never have time to do them anymore.”
    “Wait, you majored in business, but you work in information security? Isn’t that an IT thing?” Angel asked, seeming intrigued.
    “Well, I kind of spent a lot of time around computers back in high school—learning to code in several languages, writing programs, getting involved in online communities.” Like the hacker community, but he wasn’t going to share that part with a man he’d barely met. “I started out of curiosity and to have something to fill the time—you know how high school can be.”
    “I do.”
    “But it turned out I was really good at it. I just felt it, the natural flow of it, the way some people feel music, or poetry, and put it on paper.” Micah smiled at his memories, the safety of that computer screen with miles of code on it, the elation of learning something new, getting a program to run, breaking the defenses of another system.
    “So why didn’t you go on to study IT?” Angel asked.
    Micah shrugged. “I had it all planned back then. Being the nerd in high school was fine, but I didn’t want to sit alone hunched over the keyboard my whole life. I figured studying business was good—I would be among people, learn interesting things, have some social life and go on to work for some stable company somewhere. I would earn decent money at some middle-level job and still have time for family and stuff.” He looked away, blushing. It seemed so silly now, having his whole life planned ahead like that at eighteen.
    “So what changed?”
    “It didn’t really work out like that,” Micah said, playing with his wine glass. “Turns out I’m not corporate material, as I learned during my first internship. I honestly thought it would kill me, the monotony of being glued to my desk, in my tiny cubicle, doing the same repetitive things every day, just because someone else told me to do them. By the end of the first month I was ready to scream every time I saw that building.”
    “Ah.” Angel took a sip of wine. “I understand the sentiment. It must have been hard to realize that when you had your goals set out like that. Didn’t you think of changing your major? It must have still been early enough.”
    Micah nodded. “I did. But I actually liked business, really. I found it fascinating. It was being the office drone that I couldn’t stand, so I decided I had to find a different path—or make it, if needed. Then I heard something that stayed with me: that the most successful companies are born when genuine passion meets business skills. I realized that I had the passion—I never really managed to give up the inner nerd—and I was studying to have the skills. So I decided to try. The beginnings were slow and clumsy, but we’ve been steadily growing ever since.”
    Their