She tentatively entered in the one beacon of socializing that fulfilled the very purpose of her daily scheduling. Yet previous days before, she would sit and conceptualize the upcoming week and the lack of grandeur it consisted of. First Sunday, followed by Monday, then Tuesday, until eventually the empty enormity of her vacancy would be fully encompassing and she’d proceed to putting away her calendar until the next run through. But today had been different. It was the morning of August 7th, and she was sitting on the edge of her wooden stool at a table in a coffee shop. She took another sip, slowly and deliberately, of the beverage she’d drink everyday in the same way: an iced latte. She scrolled through the news gingerly reading headings, peering at others on laptops fueled with caffeine and dedicated to progressing their work. There was a large window framing an intersection of impatient vehicles from which the young woman viewed. A stop and go scene. But suddenly there was a tap on her shoulder. She hesitated at this gesture for many seconds to come, as such a motion was uncanny. The possibility of someone requesting a verbal correspondence was not heard of, impossible even. Yet the action repeated, with the gentle touch lingering on her shoulder, forcing a shift in gaze from the bustling street to a tall man in a trench coat. That’s odd, she thought, contemplating a tragedy so severe as to wearing a coat in 85 degree weather. She didn’t say anything, curiously looking with a furrowed brow at the slender stranger in front of her. He hesitated, like her, wondering what this interaction would provoke and staring with eyes of undeniable desire but simultaneous fear. Fear of what she might say, or what she may neglect to. He glanced at his brown leather-banded watch, looked back up, and exited the cafe without another look. She sighed with relief despite her prevailing curiosity of what the interaction could have been. All the could be’s drove her mind to a state previously unknown to her. She wanted a date marked in her calendar. She desired something to be accounted for. Hurriedly, she ran from the cafe to where the man was pulling out a set of keys presumably to an array of cars. Lining the parking lot was an Audi, a Tesla, and a Honda, but all were noted by a gesture less than the nod of head, as the man quivered past. He instead turned to a bike rack, where his bright red wheels were beaming in the sun, and whispered of the many adventures it was destined for. Watching this delicate scene, the lady pictured herself mounted on such a stead heading down a road with bright yellow flowers adorning the sides. She’d feel shivers from the wind rushing down her back, and would gaze at the endless road in front of her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the keys jingling loudly as the man unlocked his bike. She looked down at the broken cement, wondering if she would regret walking back to her isolated cafe stool. Before thinking fully through the words hanging from her anticipating lips, she yelled out to the young man “hey!” He instantly turned around with his coat draping behind him, and the point of his perfectly curved nose facing the lady. He judged her bright crimson cardigan with a small butterfly broach, and her glasses perched at the edge of her nose that aged her beyond the years of her actual youth. But mostly he took notice of the boldness of her decision to approach such an abnormal man that would appear foreign even in a crowd of his own. She stood there waiting for a response, resisting the gloom from his lack of verbiage, as her impulsive whim comforted her of its mere existence. It ensured that she hadn’t fallen accustom to the sole company of herself.  A smile began to curve at the base of her mouth, as the man still stood lost in thought and seeking his words. Finally he began to speak, striking the match of a mutually desired conversation. He put the lock back on his bike, heading for a bench that overlooked the same busy intersection. They talked for hours until the midday heat subsided and made way for pastel colors to emerge in the sky. His exiting symbolized the reconciliation of the woman’s calendar serving a genuine purpose. And for him, the young lady with her butterfly broach and crimson cardigan, brought a reviving splash of color in the monotonous wave of ordinary.