The elevator dinged, and the doors slid opened. In came him, and there you stood. Once in the elevator, he reached for the buttons and pressed one, but then his bag slide off his shoulder. You helped him pick up his things as he apologized for his clumsiness.

The two of you stood in the elevator, having it all to yourselves. He started to talking, in hopes of making conversation with you, even if you were awfully quiet. He didn’t seem to notice as he nervously rambled about being a musician and playing a sousaphone as a sort of hobby.

After a few moments, you glance back at the tall fellow, and then pop out an ear-bud, but when you realize he had been talking to you for you didn’t know how long, so you listen carefully to what he had to say next.

“See, I notice that you ride this elevator every Thursday at two pm, and I think that you are- so beautiful… and- you have really good taste in music,” he softly exhaled. “And, I’ve been wanting to say this for like- four months… so, if you just- I don’t know, wanted to grab like a coffee or something sometime, that would be so great.”