It was the day of the last exam. Or was it the last day of exams? There might be more tests. Anyway, Tasha needed to decompress. Tino had to progress. It was Tasha and Tino’s first intimate congress. But no one had to undress to impress. Tino is no poet. Neither is Tasha. 

They agreed to meet up at O’Malley’s at seven in the evening. An expensive dinner at a high-end restaurant is the best way to celebrate an academic milestone. 

Tino decided to go a step further. He was going to be super punctual. After all, money is vanity. What’s of more value is a strong character. Well, so he thought. He never saw Tasha as a run-of-the-mill airhead who only desired sparkling things with no substance or sense of direction. 

By six-thirty, Tino was seated at the most logical location: Equidistant from the three landmarks viz entrance, kitchen and restrooms. It should not be too couched up in the middle of all the furore while having easy access to a window. Luckily, that sweet spot was vacant. 

It was such a relief seeing Tasha walking in at exactly six-fifty. That said a lot about her from a psychoanalytical point of view. The most telling revelation was that she was not a narcissist. Tino could think up at least seven cues about Tasha’s personality from that little verity: punctuality. Or maybe she just wanted to use the loo, and being early was an anomaly for Tasha. 

Easy, Tino. Too early to jump to conclusions.