Write one leaf about a first impression.

She stood in the corner of the room with a glass of red wine in her hand. Watching her from across the room, I could feel the tension my body was building up inside of me. The blood was boiling beneath my skin, taunting me, threatening to break through if I didn’t make my way over to her and brush that strand of black hair out of her face.

We weren’t alone in this apartment overlook Haight Street. It was full of twenty-somethings with much better looks than I, but I still had a little bit of faith, maybe I, too, caught her attention at first glance. She takes another sip from her glass as I get up from the chair and begin walking across the room. Ten, night, eight more steps to go… but I my voyage gets stopped as I see a bearded man approach her. Fuck. There goes my chance. I took too long again, I always think I have all the time in the world. I should know by now that the pretty girls’ glow isn’t just attracting little ol’ me.

I see her giggle and flip her hair. I wish she were giggling at me. I try not to stare, but I feel such disappointment, that I want to see this man get disappointed too. Eventually he does walk away, moving onto new prey throughout the room. Seven, six, five… I’m getting closer, and so far, so good. Her glass is almost finished. I contemplate for a millisecond whether I should go back and get her some more, but I am smarter this time, I know I have to hurry. She finishes the rest of her wine in a slow, somehow elegant sip and looks up at me with a sly smile. She’s beautiful, more gorgeous up close than far away, which for most girls is the exact opposite.

“Hello, you,” she says as I let out a breath which I feel has been in my lungs for far too long. If I thought I had bad timing before, I was completely off. Just as I open my mouth to say hello and find some suave compliment, the door opens, and everyone screams, “Surprise!” I look back at this nameless girl, who apologizes and tells me she has to say hello to the birthday girl. I’m left standing by myself in the corner now, in awe that this beautiful girl even said hello to me, feeling like I was in junior high again when the cheerleader asked if we could go steady.

I wait for five minutes (which feels like an eternity) with my mind wandering; those few words that came out of her mouth and her smile have given me a peek into who she is, and I can’t help but to smile and wanting to know more about her. Then I see her, with two glasses of wine, coming towards me with that sly smile.

“Hello, you,” I say.

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