We met on the outskirts of Oxford.
I offered her coffee, and she smiled at me like it was the only thing she ever needed.
It was a strange start to an even stranger friendship, but at that moment, it was all that we had.
She was like the autumn wind; graceful yet chilling to the bones, wrapped up in a summer's sky and a winter's night all at once.
I wanted every bit of her existence the second I met her. Her face spoke of a million stories as we made small talk, and in my head, I wondered what each and every story was about, and if she would ever have a story that included me. Her fascination with english literature could never compare to my fascination towards her, and as we drank coffee and spoke like we've known each other for decades, I knew I wanted to keep her around for eternity.
It was infatuation at first sight for me, and for her, it was just another interaction. I could only hope that I had offered her something that would make her look for me amids the crowd that no doubt surrounded her in her wake.
Because interactions can lead to infatuations. I could only pray this proved true for her as well.
