The Meeting

From the minute he saw her, he knew. There was almost an audible click in his ear. He knew. What exactly it was he knew, he couldn't yet tell. Well, can you blame him? Of course not. This is purity; uncontrolled, unpredictable, unrestrained emotions overwhelming his entire attention.

He had to approach her. The moment was designed that way. It seemed to have been written out before him, like a predetermined destiny, unknowable, yet unchangeable. That particular piece of amber was that particular piece of amber. Nothing else.

No way was he going to play football. It didn't fit. No way. He was fixed. Nothing he could do about. Not that he would have wanted to. It was too perfect.

He could feel the warm afternoon sun leaning on him, as if trying to gently nudge him into the pool, where the water could take over. In that instant, he became the second sunshine.
None of this was known to him at the time, of course. Why would it? Even now no-one can truly know the full scale of what was going on inside him. Naturally it has happened before, that is the nature of these things. But again there was no knowledge on his part. He was far too young, and unprepared. No-one had ever told him. They probably hsould have, though, but so it goes.
So it goes.

He was lucky. He overheard some of his own language. That would help. He yearned for his native tongue, after what in all other respects had been the best week of his life, and the thought of it continuing with the possibility of less concentration and more fluency and ease filled him with courage. That would not turn out to be necessary, however. Again lucky, after a while of his usual tactical lurking and hiding in plain sight, not getting himself noticed unless he knew he wanted it (Over the years, he had become good at turning invisible and staying out of the way.), it was she who approached him.

This came as quite a suprise to him. Not that he didn't want her to.

Once more it was too perfect. He couldn't have prescripted it better. It was so exactly what he was after that he had ruled it out from probability altogether.

From there, he was in his element. He had the upper hand. Not that he needed it. He had a knack for conversation-starting, and it went easily, despite the slight feeling of nerves in his stomach. He could just ignore that. Another thing he was used to, ignoring pain.

It was the dawning of a new phase for him. The best phase.

Not knowing simply didn't matter any more. He didn't need to know. He would go on to almost get it all badly wrong, but the determination of the love he was now fuelled with pulled through, and he got it right in the end.