We met outside the town hall and started exchanging small conversations between partaking the assignment we’d been given. I wondered where she was from, what she did outside of uni and whether or not she had a boyfriend. Perhaps she didn’t; would she think differently of me in these short conversations? By her passive tones and inclination not to continue with the small banter and flirtatiousness, I assumed she had a boyfriend, then she threw a quirky smile and a bite of the lip and my interest peaked over time.
The clock upon the highest point of the town hall struck midday and she walked down the slight slope towards the tram stop. Maybe I stopped her to ask for her number, then suggested for a drink or two. Perhaps she said yes, to both, or maybe not at all. A few of the class members could join as a gathering for first years, share drinks and settle into a warm rapport with one another. Or, we’d just continue to talk until we found ourselves at a fork in the road, and parted our separate ways after exchanging numbers and facebook invites; spending twenty cents but moments later to continue our conversation.
Perhaps, none of that happened and I continued to wonder what might have happened. Brooding most days over what possibility it was that if I’d asked for her number, and whether it increased or declined upon each passing day that I didn’t ask, factoring in whether or not I spoke to her that day, and what she spoke of, or not at all.
Perhaps I just sighed as she walked down that hill past midday and I eventually just my imagination die out. A passing phase, a moment of simple infatuation or curiosity, either was just as harmful.