"P-Petrikov?" She turned, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. At the foot of the stairs, you caught her just in time.. clutching her wrist tightly, just as the bus impatiently idled nearby... any later and she'd be gone.

Her eyes spoke volumes of unspoken emotions. The letter, a heartfelt confession hidden in a library book, had bared her soul. With a touch of self-consciousness, she stammered, "It was just a silly letter, really... I was feeling some...type of way..."