I thought I could do this, but the optimist in me is foiled again. She is at the end of the rack, fingers trailing delicately over a collection of porcelain ornaments as she meanders closer, but, rather than the casual approach of a girl, it feels as if I am at the wrong end of a thundering train. My limbs freeze, the cursed appendages, and I swear I can hear myself breathing far too loudly for my sanity.

I avert my face in pretend consideration of the wares. Her footsteps stop. My body is attuned to her every movement. She is staring at me. She inhales in preparation to speak, and, just when I feel as if my heart cannot beat any faster in anticipation of her words... Oh-

"Excuse me." Her voice, high and clear, isn't the diffident tone of other girls her age. This is a young woman who knows precisely what she wants out of life, out of me, and is correctly confident that she can have it. "Kalyn, is it?"

My shock betrays itself. She knows my name? My emotions leap ahead of my mind, wondering what she could possibly have to say to me when-

"Could you move?"

Her hand indicates the blocked aisle, and, recovering disastrously from my embarrassment, I do move. For this bravery, I am granted a terse "thanks" as she walks back out of my reach.