Misty walked into the Math Lab on a Saturday afternoon, unannounced, unexpected. She stepped into the room and I was captivated. She had sparkling green eyes and straight brown hair that flowed across her face, down past her shoulders. She wore a white sun dress that contrasted her tanned skin. Her legs were muscular like a gymnast and she stepped gracefully in precipitously high heels.
Usually very smooth, Dylan was visibly shaken. He jumped up from the staff desk, spilling papers and pencils across the floor. Then he slipped on one of the pencils as he rushed around the desk catching himself before falling. He ran to her and hugged her desperately.
After several minutes of excited catching up he walked her over to the staff desk. He couldn't speak correctly when he motioned toward me.
“Misty, I'd guess,” I said holding out my hand. She nodded and took it, her bracelets tinkled musically as she squeezed. Her hands was soft and small; fragile even. “I'm Rick.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her voice was very soft, nearly inaudible.
“Visiting?” I asked.
Dylan found his voice and jumped in. “She's moving back here. She's enrolling in school again.”
“Which program?” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled. At least I think it was a smile because her mouth was framed by cute upturned corners favored in models and actresses.
“I'm not sure what I want to study. I'll start here at the Community College and get some general requirements out of the way.”
“Isn't that great?” Dylan asked.
“Yes, it's great.”