“I know you,” you tell her.
“Do you really?” she says absently as she breezes past you. You're forced to jog along beside her.
“Did you take Professor Stevens’ American History class last spring?”
"I wasn't a student here last spring," she says, without even a glance in your direction.
"You weren't?" you find yourself saying automatically. You get the feeling that it's a lie – a deflection – but of course you have no way to know for sure.
In the three seconds it takes you to come up with something to say next, she has disappeared back down the hall.
Disappointing, of course. But you've got all the time in the world, of course – literally – so there's no reason to stop trying. 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