I remember watching as they moved in and set up shop. I was a bank teller at the Wells Fargo drive-thru office that used to occupy a corner of First Ave. and Washington St.

I remember watching as they moved in and set up shop. I was a bank teller at the Wells Fargo drive-thru office that used to occupy a corner of First Ave. and Washington St. It used to be a little Asian place that never really took off. Then again, it was kind of a funky area to open a restaurant back then. Washington Street is an old artery between Mission Hills and Hillcrest. For a historical street, it’s had its share of freaks and shows. From my perch at the branch, it was almost like looking into a large aquarium.

I grab the slices and head over to the table. As we work on our slices, I continue my ‘shortened’ life story to the girl across from me. I have to watch myself because I tend to go off on tangents, making a short story a very long one. What can I say? I like to talk. I think that I talk too much, especially when the other person listens quietly. I hope that I’m not boring her. Oh well, I tell myself. I try to relax. I enjoy her company. She’s very cool.

I met her down at City. We’re in a class together, called Packaging and Design. You see, I got this idea in my head that I needed to go back to school and ‘really learn’ about graphic design. She was there, doing the same. While I do it mostly to kill time and meet people—you know, networking—she’s really there for the education. It’s a hell of a graphic design program, for thirteen bucks a unit, with some good instruction. But six weeks into the semester, I learn that the design scene in San Diego is one big clique, and you have to pass an initiation to get in. Not really, but if they had a secret handshake, I wouldn’t be surprised.

We talk design and get to know each other. We find out that we have friends in common. It turns out that I’ve secretly had a crush on one of her good friends for years, whom I met while working in the bank. This friend was a customer of mine. This friend has her own business. She also had this long-haired boyfriend that tagged along with her. I was inwardly scoffing at him while eyeing her…quietly, of course. You know, if a guy likes a girl, he always likes to think he should be the one with her instead of the boyfriend. It's a competition that's already lost, so what had I to lose?

She had long, brown hair that came just past her shoulders, brown eyes and her face...she was beautiful.

The day I first saw her was like any other day. All she did was walk into the bank one day and stand in line. There was just a way about her that struck me. The way she stood there, kind of lost in her thoughts. She had long, brown hair that came just past her shoulders, brown eyes and her face...she was beautiful.

And that was it.

Apart from helping her a few times, I just enjoyed whenever she came in. Eventually, I quit the bank and never really saw her after that, but somehow always remembered her.

I've been rambling. I try to change the subject, but too late. The slices are nearly devoured, and she glances at the clock on the wall. We finish up our slices and head home. We don't ever really hang out again afterwards, but we see each other at school and say "hello" whenever we bump into each other. I left City shortly thereafter, and began working again.

Some time later, I finally run into my old crush at the Casbah, during Jivewire. In the sea of dancing bodies, she appears. She looks beautiful, as always. This time, no boyfriend is present. They’ve broken up, it seems. She sees me and smiles. I smile back. The music is suddenly a dull, muted thump, as she speaks to me.

She says, “Hi.”

“Hey”, I reply.

Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, a tall blonde grabs my crush by the arm and pulls her back into the sea of people, disappearing forever. I haven’t seen her since, but I suppose that I'll see her again someday.

- S.F. 2003