Imogen

My name's Sam Miller, and if I'm going to tell you the story of how I met the magnificent Imogen Jenkins then I need to start from the beginning.

At nineteen years old I started my first year at San Diego State University and to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I found out quickly that I loved to study in Build E's courtyard. Imogen was there every Tuesday and Thursday sporting a pleated black skirt and some collared shirt.

The first time I had seen her I was on my way back from a friends dorm stoned. It was well past ten at night when I saw her petite form hunched over a picnic table. With bloodshot eyes I did my best to inconspicuously snoop closer to see what she was doing. My bed could wait.

Her fingers were running over a book and taking notes with the other. I could barely see her light movements under the dim light the lamps that lined the path provided. How could she even see?

My stomach grumbled before I could have found out and I froze realizing she had stumbled in her writing and looked up. She looked around the court and my high ass closed my eyes and hoped the night would protect me from a painfully awkward encounter. Thankfully it did when she started cautiously studying again and I nearly sprinted the half mile back to my building.

I slept like a baby that night with Dorito dust under my fingernails.

At 4:00 pm she arrived the next night and so did I, wondering if my spaced out Sam brain had imagined her. I kept my distance for the first few weeks watching her study in the dark. Until I couldn't watch and wonder any longer.

The day I introduced myself was far from the day I fell in love with her, but it was the next best thing.