Temporary

Contrary to conventional elevators, this one did not go 'DING' or announce its next course of action. Left to our own observational devices, I decided to fill the void between her and me with conversation.

"Neighbors of a sort, eh?" 

She turned to me at that question, an eyebrow raised in a slight quizzical response, after which she glanced at the control panel that governed our upward path and noticed there was only one button left lit, with two strangers on the cab. Same floor, she correctly concluded, before smiling at me and nodding, "Yeah I guess so."

"Do you have the side with the best view?" I asked, not expecting any particular answer, not expecting any open front for further questions and words, not expecting her to respond. She turns her body to face now, a ready, easy smile on her surprisingly good looking face, replying, "I get to see the side of the university... is that the best view?" I chuckle as I formulate, "No, not really. On the other side, the expansive view lets you see the beauty of a traffic jam from the best seat in the house. All red lights on one side, white and yellow on the other, moving and, at the same time, frozen."

"That's an interesting way to look at it."

The doors silently open, beckoning the passengers to move on with their lives. I walk slowly behind her, keeping pace, wondering if she'd turn to the right or to the left or the hallway. A silent wish was made for her to turn to the right.

She turned to the right.

I ask her, "So, had a long day?"

"Oh yes..." a slight sigh, a sign that she acknowledges my good intentions of keeping a conversation. "Classes since 10 am, really busy these days." My curiosity is piqued, and so I ask her, "Oh, so are you a freshie?"

She turns her head and smiles again, "No, I'm in my final year," chuckles at my comical wide-eyed reaction.

"Oh okay, so what are you studying?"

"Biochemical engineering, and you?"

Before I respond, I raise my hands in mock submission, "Now that is way beyond my league," making her laugh again, "and here is little old me studying law."

This seems to get her to comment, "Hey that's not easy either, is it? A lot of memorizing?" I seemed to reach my door before hers, so I stop, and she slows down. "Yeah I guess there's a lot of that, but something's you'd like to forget after you're done." I fumble with the gate.

"Yeah well, isn't that the case with a lot of things," she laughs a little again, walking away.

She's about to disappear beyond the curve of the hallway before she turns to say, "It was nice to meet you, by the way." This makes me smile, and I tell her my name. She gives me hers.

She walks away.

What was the point, really? 

I was in a time of my life where I could connect with people from the four corners of the world, where I could experiment in everything I wanted to do, where I was in a safe place to be who I wanted to be. Love who I wanted to love. But, as I threw my keys on the table, set my bag on the floor, collapsed on the couch that had kept me company on long nights of contemplation, I wondered at the futility of some of those connexions. A gaze caught on a sunny monorail ride into the city, a coffee enjoyed at a shared table, a homework copied off that beautiful person you've always thought of talking to just because you enjoyed how they smiled, a kiss stolen after a few months of growing closer; just seems like you could go through the motions of love and all its mysteries yet still find yourself in a lack thereof. Mainly because some things just don't seem to last.

Covered in Rain starts playing on my homemade stereo as I let my laptop decide my mood for the warm, suddenly rainy evening. Apt for the weather, and definitely apt for the feeling of futile endeavours, I left the song wash over my mind, taking me unbidden to places of solitude unwelcome yet needed sorely. I chuckle at myself as I came to the realisation that this situation of loneliness I find myself in was all engineered by myself and myself alone. Was I finally afraid to jump into the deep end?

Was I finally afraid to try again, knowing that all this is just bound to be temporary? 

It just so happened that I was out my door quickly enough to hear her try to lock her gate. Final year or not, the semester just started, and I was gonna make the most of it, as I jogged over to her door, constructing the intricate approach to get her number. 

And you can say the mystery of it was temporary.