Every day, he comes by the cafeteria and orders the same thing. Only he does it in a way nobody else does. Rather than looking at the menu, he looks at her, smiles and greets her politely, before placing his order, which she knows by heart. He doesn't dress like the other students at the university, he kind of stands out and not just because he's tall and, well, black. There are quite a few black students at universities in Ontario, Canada. With his long-sleeved dress shirts and dress pants, he looks like a professor, except he's much too young for that. When he addresses her, she always detects a faint accent but she's much too shy to ask him about it.
One day, while she was on her break, a student shoved her aside while rushing...somewhere. It was enough to send her stumbling, and she would have fallen if a pair of strong hands hadn't caught her. She turned around, and found herself face to face with...him. In a clear voice, he looked at her with concern. Sara, are you alright? He asked. When she caught her breath, she nodded and smiled, telling him she was fine. She had never been so close to him before. He seemed much taller than before, well over six feet, kind of big but without being fat. The guy was tall, dark and handsome alright. You have me at a disadvantage sir, she said in her best imitation of an English noblewoman. You know my name but I don't know yours.
He smiled then, and she was taken aback, for she had never seen him smile before. She'd seen him many places, in the library, the cafeteria and the quad. Always he walked by himself, a man apart, book in hand. He always seemed so far away, and a bit sad. Not unlike Charles Atlas, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Absentmindedly she noticed that his broad shoulders weren't unlike those of the mythological titan. Imposing as they were, to be sure. He cleared his throat, and formally introduced himself. I am Steve, he said, extending his big hand. Sara shook his hand. It is good to meet you, she said.
I see you so many times, he said, I feel like I know you. Sara smiled at that. If any other man had said that to her, she would have dismissed it as a line. To most of the students, she was invisible. She was the tall, perky and raven-haired, porcelain-skinned gal in the hat and uniform who fetched their meals as they stood in line. She rang in the cash register, always with a smile and something witty on her tongue. I get that a lot, she said. For a moment, his handsome features went somber, and she worried she might have offended him. I'm kidding, she said, by way of explanation. He nodded and smiled again, then told her he had to run. Back to the university library, where, incidentally, she was headed.
Smiling, she asked him if he wanted to walk there with her, and he nodded. Thus they made their way from the cafeteria to the top floor of the university center. A young man in a Ravens sports jersey displayed some admirable school spirit as he asked them to support the wrestling club with a donation. Sara ignored him, but Steve stopped to offer the young man some words of encouragement, and five bucks. Do you really think that makes a difference? Sara asked. Steve shook his head. Every little bit helps when one is fighting for a cause, he said with a shrug. They made their way to the tunnels, then exited through the quad.
