We spent approximately 30 hours talking about everything from the nature of the universe to the limitations of the human mind. The usual stuff. We sat on the corner of a couch outside a library; the couch was blue. Nothing good happened. Nothing bad happened. Real people were inside working as I ate the avocado sushi you bought to sober up. You doused them in too much soy sauce. Not many people pass by libraries at 3 am, at least that’s not usually part of the weekend agenda. We ruled the night despite the condescending stares from the folk inside the library. Their gazes slipped over our heads and into the emptiness of our world. We played the who-do-you-know game sitting under the industrial yellow lights. It went surprisingly well—kind of random. Eventually the lights shut down and the sushi ran out, so we had to go. I left without a jacket, walking towards my dorm convinced I had just stumbled upon love. The typical end to a Saturday. I got to my room only to realize I had never seen you before, had no contact info for you and would likely not see you again. You don’t use a cell phone. I ran after you to get your email address. Fuckin right, an email address. We’re corporate as shit.