When my friends first teased me for not having a date for the dance party, I paid no heed to them. I had always been a reluctant person, never really attempting to approach a girl (those I liked) to ask her out. Well, I guess I have more important things to do and I keep myself busy. But, sometimes it becomes really difficult to keep up with my friends when they start boasting about their sweethearts, the places they went and the fun they had I quietly slide into oblivion in an invisible corner of the seminar where no one would notice me or point mocking finger towards me. These are the times that a part of me cries out for recognition, for purposely turning away from girls who are seemingly interested in me. I hate my circulatory system that seems to work fanatically to keep my legs from shaking when I approach a beautiful lasso, and cannot help the blush that rise to my cheeks while I try to dig a hole on the concrete floor until I give an impression that something is really wrong with me.
But the thought of the dance party was tempting enough to be overlooked and I could not imagine showing up all alone without a date. Then I remembered someone who would save my day. I had first met her in the laundry place (well, I've not met her elsewhere yet) and then she took the liberty of dropping a conversation with me. I guess it was a better idea to spend the next one-hour talking to someone rather than brooding on the ceiling. So, we started talking. She started by talking about the weather and then moved on to mention my bunny slippers and said that she thought they were cute. It was cold outside and the dark clouds looming above signaled that it was going to be colder still. Whereas, we two sat on the tiny bench in the laundry- the heater warming up our hearts. I was telling her something about the Spanish- American war or perhaps how the eradication of yellow fever enabled us to build the Panama Canal when suddenly a loud clap of thunder shook the floor.
