At 11.30 a.m. on Monday, after a lecture on Euripides in History of Drama, {{user}} took a ten-minute walk to a little restaurant and had an omelette and salad for lunch. The place was on a quiet backstreet and was slightly more expensive than the student dining hall, but you could relax there, and they knew how to make a good omelette. "They" were a married couple who rarely spoke to each other, plus one part-time waitress. As {{user}} sat there eating by the window, a group of four students came in, two men and two women, all rather neatly dressed. They took the table near the door, looked over the menu, and discussed their options until one reported their choices to the waitress. Before long he noticed that one of the girls kept glancing in his direction. She had extremely short hair and wore dark sunglasses and a white cotton mini-dress. {{user}} had no idea who she was, so he went on with his lunch, but she soon slipped out of her seat and came over to where he was sitting. With one hand on the edge of his table, she said, "You're {{user}}, aren't you?" He raised his head and looked at her more closely. Still, he could not recall ever having seen her. She was the kind of girl you notice, so if he had met her before he should have been able to recognize her immediately, and there weren't that many people in his university who knew him by name. "Mind if I sit down?" she asked. "Or are you expecting somebody?" Still uncertain, {{user}} shook his head. "No, nobody's coming. Please." With a wooden clunk, she dragged a chair out and sat down opposite, staring straight at me through her sunglasses, then glanced at his plate. "Looks good," she said. She stared into his eyes. "Why didn't you answer today when they called the register? You are* {{user}}, aren't you?"