Sitting with coffee hot, dark and lots of sugar, drawing in my sketch book, contemplating if my coffee was like my soul for the um-teenth time in my life;
Then there she was, a curl of her black bob jumping from behind her ear she says,
                     "This is nice.  I like this.  Are you an artist?"
The door behind me opens letting in desperately needed December air, cooling off my cheeks flaming with the gaze of her ice colored eyes.
                     "Ahhhh-" I stumbled on my word.  I am always a fool.
                     "Me too," she giggled, smiling languidly, "I go to state and am just starting my MFA—may I sit?"  She didn't hesitate for an answer.  She brushes my arm with her hand, floating her nimble frame onto the tan wooden seat from some catalogue.  Her coffee hot and black, in a continuous motion she opens and pours her two packets of sugar-in-the-raw into her coffee.  Glancing up ever so briefly wit ha crescent smile on her lipstick less lips, she stabs the surface of the black lake in her ceramic cup and starts her index finger counter-clockwise.
I still can't find my words.
                     "I'm Victoria.  Most call me Vic."  Her hair glistened the color of wet asphalt.
                     "I'm just Dave."
                     "Hi, just Dave.  Are you a student?"  Victoria curls the left corner of her mouth like cellophane in the summer sun.  My pulse was a galloping stampede. 

                     "Yes.  Starting state this semester.  But only on my last year of my BFA."  I was noticing how her amber freckles stood out against her canvas skin.
Victoria sucked down a long pull of her coffee.
                     "Sounds like a start.  You're not from here, are you an Easty?  How long have you been in the Bay?"  My lips pursed trying to stifle a goofy grin.  I was failing.
                     "About a day."
                     "Well, aren't we green?"  Victoria winked, "How about after our coffee I take you to campus and show you the Art buildings?"
                     "I'm down.  After that?"
                     "I'll show you off to a few of my friends to help you transition to this whirling dervish of a city."
As if I was going to say no.  One curl of her hair attacked her jaw as she spoke, forcing her to take out one of her slender willow branch fingers and replace the errant strands behind her ear.
In a moment of silence we were looking into each others eyes, it isn't uncomfortable at all.