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“Hmm. I’m not sure… they might be. Or they might not… I think.” Why do you have to be like this?

She proceeded to ask a few strangers whether the cafeteria Starbucks was still under operating hours or not. Turned out, they close in about another hour. “Do you think we have time to go to Starbucks before the end of break?” she hesitantly proposed the question.

“My good lady, whether we could make it before break or not is of little relevance. You and me, were forever meant to be.” Okay, that’s not what I said.

And thus we marched to the cafeteria. On the way, she told me about how indecisive she was, and I remarked that there was nothing wrong with being analytical. She found the comment sweet and told me about her career aspirations in corporate America and how she was currently reading a book regarding the rise and fall of Enron. I could’ve showered her with flattering wishes that would assure her security in such a venture and how it would compliment her personality, but of course, I couldn’t think fast enough. The only commentary I could append was my related business dreams of some day owning a comic book shop. Surprisingly, she didn’t oppose my penchant for graphic novels. I could’ve given her some goofy soliloquy about my love for comics – something dorky but something that would make her laugh or smile or something. But I didn’t.

On our way back, she told me about her fancy for nonfiction television shows like Law & Order, and I told her I loved fiction because I already got enough “nonfiction” in my life. When I mentioned my fondness for fantasy and science fiction, her response was less than supportive.

Whoa! I nearly fell over the impaling criticism. Before I could collect my posture, I realized we were nearing the classroom. “Not all science fiction films are bad,” was the best defense I could muster, as I huffed and puffed trying to keep pace with her mustang legs.

“I guess,” she empathized. “Sometimes when I go over to my mom’s house, the SciFi channel is all she’s watching so I don’t really have a choice, and I’m like, ‘Oh, not bad.’ ” At that moment, futility was denial. I was madly in love with this woman… and her mom.

Just when I thought our conversation was evolving into something more meaningful, we were back in class. And for the next hour, I sat there wondering if she liked me back… even a little. I didn’t care. I was in love… and

there was nothing the dark forces could do to stop me from chasing a dream. Yeah. I was a dreamer…

The next day during break, I employed the restroom to wash my greasy face. “Hhhaagh, hhhaaagh,” I checked my breath. Several glances in the mirror and I was

ready to go. As I approached the snack machines, where everyone usually congregated, she was absent from view. I foolishly chuckled to myself, as I entertained the thought that she was taking the extra time to make herself extra pretty for another eager encounter with me. “Not that she could look any prettier or anything,” I defended her beauty. Hands in my pocket, I waited. And waited. And finally… break was over.

When I returned to class, she was nowhere to be found. I settled in my seat, but was unsettled by the eventless break. Ten minutes into the second half of the professor’s lecture, Miss No Show decided to stroll in, as I scrutinized her every move with melancholy. From the way she was fiddling her tongue inside her mouth and smacking her lips, it appeared as though she had just satisfied her appetite with a hearty meal.

Something about it appeared arrogant and I resented her for it… how she could just walk into class with her tongue turning revolutions within her oral milky way. She felt so full, but I felt empty trying to rationalize the recent events. Just the other day, she had exerted a religious effort to return to class on time with her Nascar strides. Did she not appear doubtful of making it to class before break over a meager cup of coffee? Did she not mandate my monophonic confirmation? What on Pluto Nash compelled her to enjoy a two-star meal and strut into class ten minutes late?

It didn’t take Brainiac from piecing the puzzling matter… I just wasn’t good enough for her. You’re pathetic. What was I thinking? I dove into the sea knowing well I would either drown or get eaten by sharks, but I got carried away by t

he soothing waves and actually started thinking it would take me somewhere magical. I even amused the thought of cooking for her every morning, sending roses to her corporate headquarters during sandwich break, and at nightfall, serenading poems of her for her and watching Battlestar Galactica together. You hopeless fool…

The next evening, I saw her from afar and she waved at me. I waved back. But on this day…I wouldn’t pursue her. Instead, I stood my ground and waited. Maybe it’ll be different this time. And waited. Maybe she’ll walk over to you for once. And waited. Maybe she’ll apologize for yesternight. And waited… until she disappeared around a corner. At the other side of the crossroad, I was still standing, still waving, still waiting… as if it meant something… as if to tell her, this is where I am and if you ever changed your mind, this is where I’ll be… as if… as if she cared…

She didn’t. And nothing happened after that. The following evening was the last day of class and it unraveled like android hell. Teacher passed out the final exam. Students completed it. Teacher collected it. Teacher and students left school. And life went on…

But it was never quite the same. To her, I was just another loser that liked her and living probably wasn’t all that insufferable to resume. But to me, she was the girl of my dreams, and I would never see her again.

In another time, I could’ve made more sense. In another world, I would’ve made it work. In another skin, I should’ve made her mine. Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve… the lyrics of regret… but also of hope. Hope to keep me warm in bed tonight, when she suddenly returns from work and I greet her at the door. “Babe, you’re 10 minutes late today. I was worried sick that I accidentally overcooked the macaroni. I’m- I’m sorry.” She hugs me and tells me it’s okay. We order pizza, talk about the new bitch at her work, scurry upstairs and do what any two people madly in love would do…