These two had never met, although they saw each other every day in the hall of their
apartment building. It was by chance that they happened upon one another in this diner. He gazed from the doorway at the girl who he had dreamt about numerous times. Finally, after going over every possible scenario in his mind, he approached her. As he walked up to the booth where she was seated, she turned her head and looked towards him, starting into his jacket, up, past his crooked collar, up, past his thick neck, and finally arriving at his face. She stared at his strong jaw, his high cheek bones, and his autumn hazel eyes, which could barely be seen through the mask of brown hair he wore draped across his face. His eyes fell upon her hair, a shade of golden blonde which fell at shoulders length, shimmering in the glow of the fluorescent lighting, paralleled by the darker streaks of brown, which seemed as if they were shadows, cast by great wonders. Her eyes were reflecting pools, clear blue, testaments to the fountains of Rome. Her mouth was petite, and her lips seemed soft, like the most luxurious of cushions. He stood there for a moment, then asked if he could sit with her. She fixed her eyes back on him, gave the slightest of nods, and shifted over in the booth. He sat, and was paralyzed with confusion. He couldn't decide on what, if anything, to say. Finally deciding to let loose and improvise, he began to speak, and just as he did, the waitress arrived. "Here ya go, hun." she announced, as she placed the cup of warm coffee and the plate of cold pumpkin pie in front of her. "Thank you.", she replied meekly. She began to sip slowly at the cup of coffee, not only because it was hot, but also because she needed an excuse to not speak. The diner at this point was nearly silent, save for the hum of the lighting, the sizzle of the grill, and the two bells above the door, which jingled as the last customer departed. Two minutes had passed since he had sat down, and not a word was said except for the brief exchange with the waitress. At last, words spilling out of his mouth like the breaking of a dam, he said, "My name's Jason." these three simple words were what he used the finally tear down the wall of silence between them. "I know". "And yours?" "It Samantha-", she began, "but my friends call me ‘Sam’.” "Heh, ok 'Sam'. ", he half chuckled through the sentence. "I said my 'friends' call me 'Sam', I never made any mention of you." "Oh..."A feeling of gloom superseded the adrenaline induced boldness within him. He looked towards the door, thinking it would be best if he were to merely get up and leave. Just as he began to leave the booth, she burst into laughter. "Don't worry, Jason, I was only kidding." He looked back her, and could not help himself from joining in. For the next two hours, they sat in the diner and reveled, until around 12, AM, the waitress asked them to leave so they could lock up. They walked hand-in-hand back to the apartment building, the street lights illuminating the ground below, reflecting in the moist asphalt of the road. They entered the apartment building, a large edifice of old brick, still standing since 1949. He had moved into this particular building because the rent of seemed fair at the time, especially to someone who's total income in a single year amounted to zero. Samantha, however, had moved in because it reminded her of the building she was raised in. Same age worn bricks, same number of floors, same leaky faucet, and same temperamental heating system. Though it matter not what brought them there, but rather, the fact that they were together now.
They ascended the four flights of stairs, coming to a stop at the top floor, where Samantha's tenement, room 4B, was situated. She unlocked her door, and invited him in. With a bashful look on his face, he stepped past the threshold, and into the foyer. Samantha flipped a switch, and the room flooded with light. Jason could tell she had a knack for decor. Her house was brimming with bright furniture and ornamentations, as well as remakes of famous art work such as Starry Night, Madonna of the Rocks, and even the Mona Lisa. Samantha grabbed his arm and began leading him towards a door, supposedly her room, but all at once, everything halted. "Hey!", an old woman's voice called out. Everything around Jason began to fade. "Can I help you?" the voice said again. And at that point, the image of Samantha's lavish apartment was replaced with that of the diner, and Samantha herself with the waitress. "Did you need anything?" the waitress asked him. "Oh...um, no, I guess not." He answered, and the waitress left him. He was still in the doorway of the diner, gazing at the girl who He passed every day. A girl whose name He could only guess was Samantha. A girl who didn't even know his. A girl who would never know how he felt. A girl who, in the wonderful illusions of his daydreams, was as much infatuated with him, as He was with her. He turned around, and headed back out the way he came, the bells above the door giving a jingle, as if in memoriam of his delusional fantasy.