Illustration: Lila Huang

Illustration: Lila Huang


It was

the way her hair fell over her glasses frames from two seats across

and weaved right into his jumble of thoughts,

both guarding their own thoughts in fortresses,

walls of books to hide behind

only daring to watch from a distance,

he can still see her eyes light up to reveal whole universes within

and she’s still earshot of his smooth, rolling epiphanies

of things beyond even comprehension.


the rings under their eyes darker

than those sleepless nights spent wondering,

trying to turn scattered points into theories

trying to linearize fluctuating heartbeats

she, the puzzle he just cannot solve,

he, the question demanding an answer;

both looking for conclusions

–more caffeine,

it seemed, was the single solution

and on groggy mornings she thinks

she might be seeing things,

like the sporadic pattern of hands slightly touching

and smiles and direct eye contact.



perhaps they’re just a series of miraculous little outliers

or variables manipulated simply for a reaction:

merely points of tangency,

two points coming infinitely close then curving apart.

And he’d never believed in fate and destiny

and she was never very good with probabilities


really, what are the chances?

so she went ahead and took one.