“Cute Crush”

“I’m sorry,” Samedh whispered silently, his quiet, low voice trembling, his eyes’ gaze absent. “I just... I can’t do this, Yuvaan. I’m sorry... I’m so, so sorry.”

I sighed silently upon hearing these words. I had a hunch that it was too early for him and that we would be better off saying goodbye after our date, but he dragged me into his apartment himself... And as a result, I thought that he was ready.

Well, now it turns out that he wasn’t.

“It’s alright,” I told him after a moment of silence. “I mean, I can understand that perfectly.”

“I’m sorry again,” he repeated, anguished, and hugged his knees with both arms. “I really believed I could do this tonight...”

I took his glitter shirt from the bed and passed it to him. “Don’t worry... These things shouldn’t be forced.”

Samedh nodded, then shyly took the t-shirt and put it on. It was enormous; I had already noticed it earlier, but now he seemed to drown in it. Maybe, though, it was the fault of his dark skinny jeans...

“Thanks,” he said silently, so silently that I almost had to read it from his lips. “Now, please leave.”

“All right,” I replied, getting up.

I honestly didn’t manage to take off any items of my clothing yet, aside from my jean jacket, so I put it on. I walked into the corridor, and Samedh followed me noiselessly. “You know how to get out of this neighborhood?”

“Sure, I’ll manage,” I said, lacing my shoes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Driving away into the night ten minutes later, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of extreme emptiness overwhelming me. I felt so incredibly alone... If this date ended with us saying goodbye at the restaurant, I would’ve felt better than I did, having been invited for a night that was never meant to happen. Although I knew it wasn’t my fault that he didn’t want it in the end and that I did the best thing that I could’ve done, leaving him, it still made me feel... sad.

*

Three months later

What are all those people printing encyclopedias?! I thought, irritated, impatiently queuing in front of our floor’s printer. Quite a few people were waiting here, and the line seemed to move slower than usual, almost at a snail’s pace.

Bored out of my mind, I glanced at the nearby bulletin board. There was a new poster advertising a travel conference called ‘Revelations from the World.’ From what I read, there were supposed to be seven panels, each featuring a different continent. The travelers attending would conduct their slideshows about life in other countries and discuss the future of travel in general. As a chief journalist responsible for this company’s travel newspaper, I felt intrigued and thought of going.

Half an hour later, I finally managed to print the file, and with my head brimming with new ideas, I returned to my desk. It was one of the most cluttered ones in this open-space office. I had travel-related books, maps, and leaflets here, as well as souvenirs from my travels, mostly postcards, and trinkets. Not to mention office supplies, my laptop, mug, etc. Despite the mess, I knew exactly where everything was and could find what I needed in a pinch...

I placed the article for my boss in the last free space I could find and checked my inbox. The previous edition of our monthly newspaper had just been published, and I still needed to mail the confirmation of the topics for the next one. Free to slack off without a shade of guilt, I began planning my presentation for the conference and continued doing so at home.

I took photographs from many destinations worldwide, but the ones I was most proud of were from Vietnam. That was one of my best trips… I fell in love with this country’s traditions. I even got a conical hat, one the locals have worn for centuries when working on the paddy fields. But I never wore it; I just got it because I loved the design very much, even though it was so simple.

Having chosen the best photos, I attempted to sign up for the conference as a prelector, but a special invitation was required. I tried to call the phone number on the official website to figure out how to get my surname added to that list, but no one answered. Of course! Nobody ever answers the official phone numbers!

When someone finally replied to my email the following day, it turned out that the conference was meant only for famous travel journalists and members of renowned academic societies.

Frustrated about having hit a glass ceiling again, I decided to give up... But the next day at work, I realized everyone was speaking about the conference! And my rival from the other department was going there, too! He was a war zone reporter. Why was he accepted, and I wasn’t?

Upset about this injustice, I felt dejected nearly the whole day and perked up a little only after returning to my apartment. It was my sacred space, always filled with sunlight and the scent of sandalwood incense, which I regularly burned in my prayer room.

After taking some rest, I got a new idea. I decided I’d speak to one of my university professors. I was sure that he could turn my fates around... But the professor’s old number wasn’t available anymore. He probably retired... It was that time already.

I scanned my mind for other contacts and suddenly remembered the man who helped me organize the capital for my first journey abroad. His company was a conference patron, so I was sure that I’d make it!

When he answered the phone, I told him I was ready to pay to be offered a lecturing place at the conference. He promised to make a few calls, but it quickly turned out that all spots had been taken already.

Such bad luck, I sighed to myself, depressed. I was so, so close to making it…