“Wait – Inez?”
She turns to you and blinks. “Yes?”
“I thought I recognized you. How have you been?”
She joins you against the wall, but her face is wary. “Do we know each other?”
“I used to date a girl who lives down the hall from you.”
"Who?"
"Debbie."
Inez chuckles. "There's like half a dozen Debbie's on our floor," she says. "Which one?"
"It doesn't matter – it didn't last long."
"Uh huh," Inez grunts noncommittally. She makes like she's about to push herself away from the wall again so you quickly chime in with:
“I just always thought you seemed like an interesting person –"
"I don't," she says nonchalantly.
The self-effacing comment is such a non sequitur that it stops you cold.
Inez glances all around you impatiently. "Look, did you need something?"
"Want to get some coffee?”
"Not really, no," she says. And she turns and disappears in the flow of traffic.
Never even had a chance, you think to yourself. The fact of the matter is that it's been so long since you've asked anyone out that you have no idea how to do it anymore.
But you've got all the time in the world, of course – literally – so there's no reason to stop trying. Practice makes perfect.
You jump back sixty seconds into the hallway full of people, half of them already texting someone on their phones.
Inez appears. You decide to
Or you can think better of it, deciding instead to