2001-08-28 - 5:59 p.m.

"Next week's my last week!"

Sometimes, you hear something from someone and it just echoes in your brain over and over. And that's not to say you just can't stop thinking about it—though you probably can't—but no matter what you think about it, the actual sound of the person saying it plays louder than any monologue you may be having with yourself.

For almost two months I've been going to this store for lunch nearly every weekday, not for the food or the service—which are both great—but for that smile, and those eyes, and the Real way she showed her feelings, almost perpetually happy, in her face.

Three days ago—a mere three days—I finally did what I'd been waiting all this time to do and asked her out, only to find out she was already dating someone. But, dating someone or not, I wasn't going to stop going to see her, because she was still a bright spot in these rather dull surroundings. Not that everything is dreary or depressing, just it has no real life or energy to it. And that's what I just realized, sitting at this cafeteria table, furiously writing away with an empty stomach aching to be filled by the sandwich sitting in front of me, is the reason why this girl, with her body-shaking, head-tilting laugh, made such a big impression on me. She is the most vibrant, lively thing I've seen in this area since I moved here. She has this energy about her that never dies, while everything else just seems simply… there.

And today, we smiled and talked and things were okay. Actually normalish on the first day we'd seen each other since I asked her out. I got my sandwich (she got me the store-made wheat bread instead of the kind they buy because she thought I'd like it better), my drink, I was rung up, and started to leave. I had my sunglasses on, had rounded the corner, and was pushing the door open when I heard it.

"Next week's my last week!"

I stopped. My arm fell to my side and the door swung closed again. Did I hear that right? Maybe it wasn't her. But who could it be? The other girl next to her has a lower voice. Who am I kidding, I'd know that voice in a second. Okay, it was her. Was she telling me? Is that why she'd called it out like that? I looked back around the corner and she was at the counter, watching for me to come back and acknowledge that I'd heard her. She gave kind of a resigned shrug, and I nodded thoughtfully. I mouthed the phrase, "All right…" thinking I was going to actually say it until I noticed no sound came out, and gave her kind of a "Okay, I guess I'll talk to you later" kind of a wave, though I know my face said "I have absolutely no idea what to say to that."

Then I turned and left. I couldn't say anything about it, I didn't know what to say. I knew this was going to happen. I was hoping she wasn't part of the mass exodus of college kids whom I should be joining, but it appears she probably is. I'll try to get the details tomorrow, and wish I had today, but until then, I don't know what else to say to it.

One thing I do think, though, is that in the last week I get to see her, I'm going to tell her. I'm going to give her one of those moments that can just let her go back and smile. I'm going to let her know that she touched someone without even trying, just by being her. Because I think everyone deserves a moment like that.