Cafe by the street.

We've never been properly introduced before - Me and her. But I've seen her around - along the corridors of the hospital, in the computer suite, at events and gatherings. Whenever we crossed paths I always make a point to smile her way. She would usually look straight ahead, steps set in a purposeful walk, her face serious and unsmiling, totally oblivious to my friendly advances.

So when I asked her to join me for a cup of coffee that day, I was expecting her to say no.

"I don't drink coffee..." she deadpans, unblinking.

Bingo! Exactly what i had predicted - she would turn me down! As I was giving myself a half congratulatory, half consoling pat on the back, she looks at me and says:

"...but I don't mind a cup of hot cocoa."

There was an air about her that was both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time - pulling me in when i least expected it. 'This is going to be amusing' i thought to myself. So I took her to a small cafe in town and as we sipped our hot drinks on that cold Autumn day, we started talking - about small things, about big things, about all things under the sun.

I like her. She's kind of flirty and kind of flinty. And she's not too 'nice' the way people usually are when in the company of someone they barely know. She's just fairly normal, quite cool and quite real. She tells me she's often misunderstood, and she seemed very keen on trying to dispel those misconceptions people have about her.

"Everyone thinks I'm this strong, independent young woman. Naturally, they also think I'm snobbish and unapproachable. And I probably am most of the time, but I can be vulnerable too," she says earnestly.

This vulnerability, she tells me, reflects a softer side of her personality. "Contrary to popular belief, there is a soft side." she emphasizes.

I tell her that people might be surprised at this revelation given their perception of her as a tough cookie. But she just shrugged noncommittally and took another long sip of her hot cocoa.

"People have all sorts of views and opinions, and I'd be killing myself trying to make them think otherwise." she says slowly. "But it'll be nice once in a while if people could see me for who I really am, instead of what they think i am."

For a split second, her eyes looked sad.

I wanted to tell her that I saw her for who she really was, and that other people didn't really matter. But to say that was suicidal because she would think me a stalker or a stranger sprouting useless nonsense. So i ended up saying nothing.

After some meaningless few minutes of awkward chatter, she said she had to take her leave. I was reluctant to let our small rendezvous end like this. But she seemed in a hurry, and I had taken an hour, almost two, of her time. I told her I'd walk her home, but she declined, like I expected she would.

And as my eyes followed her out the door of that small cafe by the street, I can't help but wonder what goes through her mind. I knew I'd have to ask her out for a cup of cocoa again soon, if only just to talk.

p/s: Ahh, It's very refreshing writing from a different perspective after being stuck in the same point of view for so long.