Dear Pick-Me-Up,

Thursday afternoon, when I was going home from school after what I would probably consider an okay biology lab exam, I was on the bus going towards the train station. I had been a little down all day, cramming upon hours of studying and I was sitting on the bus (I had been near the front of the line piling on) and you got on and sat down next to me. I wasn't really paying attention to you and I opened my backpack and piled out my copy of Watership Down by Richard Adams. You must have seen the cover of the book because you commented on it, that you had read it before.

I turned my head to acknowledge your existence and comment about the book. And aren't I ever glad that I did? You introduced yourself, saying how you live for reading books. And I understood that statement easily as I love reading books as well. We started to talk to one another and you eventually took off your jacket after spending about 15 minutes on the very crowded bus. We discovered that our literary tastes were quite similar - you said that you cared very little for Christopher Paolini's Eragon and Eldest as well. I think I fell in love a little for that comment. You weren't one of those people who thought that Paolini was the one of the world's greatest fantasy authors, you even made a comment about how his stories were pointless. I think I fell in love a little more for that comment.

You were dressed quite smartly, but still recognizable as a student. Faded knees in your probably once dark blue jeans you had on a dark gray tee-shirt that looked really good on you. You had sunglasses hooked onto the neck of your shirt, previously had on a black windbreaker and you had just enough facial hair that it looked scruffy but just oh-so-delectable. Your light brown eyes carried the smile that graced your lips and you had just the kind of voice that made me want to swoon. But it's no longer the 17th century and modern-day swooning is kind of frowned on so I refrained from doing so.

What should have tipped me off about your age was the fact that you were almost finished completing your Masters degree. As in, after your Bachelors. It really should have tipped me off that you were at least 4 years older than I am. But... It didn't. Until the bus was about two stops away from the train station and you asked if you could give me your phone number.

I felt compelled to ask you how old you were. And when you told me, I felt a little queasy in an 'oh why does this keep on happening to me' kind of way. I fell silent and you asked me how old I was. And we both did the mental calculation in our heads. Nine years is kind of noticeably large. And then you smile and shrug your shoulders and go 'Hey, maybe in a year or two, eh?'. You gave me your email address - I still have yet to do anything with it. But you made my afternoon a little brighter, despite how bleak it really is. So thank you for that.

You were a very nice transit partner for those 40-odd minutes on the bus, so thank you. I'm just sorry that you weren't a little younger and me just a little older.

Thank you.