The Delmar Loop was particularly active that evening. The street was lit brightly by the streetlights, the steady stream of traffic on the road, and by the light straying from the windows of the numerous shops and restaurants. People of various ethnic and social backgrounds discussed life and livelihood at the tables outside the cafes. Still more marched up and down the sidewalks, mostly in couples or groups. As they walked by, an asian girl laughed as her boyfriend lightly licked her ear.

I was a bit surprised to see so many out, as there was quite a chill in the air. That time of year was coming on. However, I was more surprised to see a girl with long blond hair wearing a short black evening dress. As I observed her from the other side of the street, her crossed arms made it apparent that she regretted this decision. My attention was broken, however, when I felt a rather solid bump on my shoulder.

"Oh, excuse me," I said, as a reflex.

"Sorry," said the girl I bumped into.

I continued a bit further, but for some reason I paused and turned around. I found that the girl had done the same. Her verdant eyes were striking the yellow streetlight as she smiled slightly.

"I’m sorry," she said, "can we do that over?"

"What’s that?" I asked.

"You see, we have so many opportunities to meet people, who may be very good and interesting, but too often we just pass them up."

"Okay, then." I extended my hand to her. "I’m Gus."

She took it and said, "I’m Adriana."

"Where are you headed, Adriana?"

"I just got off work, so I was going to go for a coffee. Where were you going?"

"To the used bookstore, actually. I am a bit thirsty right now, though."

"Well, do you have time to join me for a bit?"

"Sure," I said, shrugging slightly.

Her bright red dredlocks bounced around her slighly ovoid face as she walked. Her lips were rather thin, and she didn’t appear to be wearing make-up. Her narrow cheekbones led up to a pair of fascinating almond-shaped eyes. She wore a long black skirt, with a rather long slit along the side, which revealed a pair of knee-high black boots and loosely-knit fishnet stockings.

She had an attractiveness that was different from the blond girl in the short black evening dress. That girl had beauty of a more generic quality; any man would find her attractive. But this girl, the girl I walked with, had a beauty that appealed more specifically to my eyes.

We soon entered one of the many coffeehouses (I can’t remember the name), and walked to the register counter. Adriana ordered one of those coffee drinks with a complicated name, then asked me what I wanted.

"Well, I don’t really drink much coffee," I replied.

"Really? You should try a chai mocha," she said. "They’re very good, even if you don’t like coffee."

"Alright, I’ll try one." I said.

When the total came up, I offered to pay, but she smiled and said, "Such a gentleman, but I’ve got it. Thank you."

After getting our drinks, we sat at one of the round, white tables. "What do you think?" She asked as I took a sip of the drink.

I smiled and replied, "Pretty good. So what do you do? Are you still in school?"

"Actually, I am," she replied. "I'm an art student."

"Oh, I am as well," I said. "I graduate this semester."

"Really? I’m graduating next year."

"Yeah," I paused briefly. "I’ll miss it. The environment, you know, of being around other people who are learning along with me, and having an instructor to consult. Getting critiques and feedback."

"I know what you mean. That’s harder to come by outside of class," she said.

"Yeah. Right now, I’m basically trying to find out who I am. I’m figuring out what kinds of art I like to do, what I like to write or draw about. What do I want to say?"

"Same here," she said. "And I think it’s actually kind of translating outside of just ‘what kind of art I want to make,’ to ‘what kind of person do I want to be?’" She took a sip from her drink, then continued. "You know, so many people are so concerned with how others see them, that they never actually learn who they actually are. They think, ‘I have to be athletic, I have to be beautiful, I have to be smart and in control…’ I would rather learn how to be a real person."

I nodded. "I totally agree. Who’s to say that who you actually are isn’t good enough, and that you have to create some kind of mask to cover it up."

"Exactly, and all that does is create a society of falsity. Nobody really knows who anyone is, including themselves."

"In fact," I said. "That might be why so many people get divorced. If you don’t know who you are, how would you know who you wanted to be with?"

"That’s interesting," said Adriana. "I never really thought of it that way." She looked down at the floor for a few seconds, then turned her gaze back to my eyes. "Personnally, I just want to know more real people, with real personality and ideas. I want real human connection. I want to know you, and I want you to know me, you know?"

I wasn’t sure if she meant "you" generally or to refer specifically to me, but for a few seconds, she lightly placed her hand on mine.

Just minutes earlier, she and I were amblers in a sea of complete strangers. Now, we had forever become a part, however insignificant, of each other’s lives.

We talked for several more minutes, then she finally asked, "Do you often visit that used book store?"

"Every once in a while," I replied.

"There is a book I’ve been looking for…" She said the name of the book, but I don’t remember it. It wasn’t important. "Do you happen to know if they have it?"

"I’m not sure," I said.

"Well, maybe I’ll go have a look," she said.

"May not be a bad idea," I said. After a short pause, "Guess I’ll join you, since I was headed that way anyway."

She smiled and shrugged. "Sounds like a plan."

And with that, we left the café and walked to the bookstore—from one circumstance to another, as is the progression of life.