If someone told me that I would see Arlo Frantz — the man whose presence makes everyone freeze in either panic or adoration — waltzing in the middle of a busy downtown mall, I wouldn’t believe them. In fact, I would have laughed at their faces.

Yet here we are.

Inside the tiny mall where Alina and I always go to.

Compared to the luxurious shopping malls, this one does not even compare. The paint on the walls was either fading or chipping, some light bulbs above us were already busted or flickering, and some of the stores don’t have any air-conditioning.

I know Arlo was wearing something casual and...