I imagined the way I would study her body in those few seconds. How I would notice the bounce of her breasts as she turned around. I wanted her hands ...n me. I wanted to feel her. All of this. Up close. But for that moment, I would settled for the way she rudely brushed by me.I don’t know why I visited the library other than to see her. I would slowly pace through the isles of books, catching glimpses of her through the non fiction. Each row I encountered became another vivid dream in my mind.. What is too much? If he leans there, againstthe half-wall, do we lock eyes? Do I glance and then look away? If heasks, do I try a yes, or simply nod, afraid the word would catch andshatter in my throat? And if he sits? Or if he leans and brushes a hand?a knee? What do I do? What do I want?She grins again, silently mouths the words: Good luck.And so I wait.Waiting, wondering. Thinking: We might very well have a drink, we wouldbe sitting where, at the bar? There'd be a buzz of conversation. More

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