It was a Wednesday night in February. He had come over to smoke a cigarette, late at night, for the fourth time in two weeks. After that they went upstairs to her bedroom to talk, him sitting on the floor again while she sat in bed.
After 3am she asked him what was going on and he asked if he could have some soup. She got out of bed and made him a bowl of soup, but nothing happened and they both went for class the next morning and she waited for him outside on the sidewalk wearing a white furry sweater and a blue pencil skirt.
At his place they lay on his bed, not touching and barely talking. He lay opaque on the other side and didn't look at her. She thought all right I'm going to leave. Nothing's going to happen like this.