I'd just gotten hired to confirm donation pick ups for a really good charity, the Dreams Come True Foundation. It was work that would look good on my resume, since I was also going to college for Social Work.

I knew it was going to be difficult though, since I've never gone to school and worked at the same time before, and to be quite honest I had somewhat of a lazy streak. Overall, I figured I would manage as long as I focued on the end result: a high salary, prestigious position with Social Services.

I'd also never gone to get my license, so I was stuck taking the bus or subway train everywhere. I hadn't figured out the schedule of the one bus that drove by my work yet, so this one day, a Friday, I'd arrived more than an hour early. This was a clear opportunity for me to venture the office building and see what was around.

After taking the elevator to the basement level, I found myself amidst a series of fast food and convenience stores. 'So I don't have to bring a lunch everyday...' I thought to myself. I walked briskly through the food court, weighing my options for my pre-work lunch, deciding finally on a bowl of vegetable soup from a small place owned by an Italian man and his wife.

As I sat down at a table far from the elevators, a tall man approached me. Nervously, I attempted to ignore him, act as if I hadn't seen him. This proved to be futile, as he began speaking to me in a deep, almost growly voice that was slightly unnerving, but comforting at the same time.

"I haven't seen you here before," he stated, looking into my eyes. "You work upstairs?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah, um... at the Dreams Come True Foundation."

"Mind if I sit?" he said more than asked, to which I nodded again. "I'm Oliver, I do deliveries for the florist on the second floor."

I couldn't help but smile - the man sitting next to me, wearing a leather jacket and ratty sneakers, looked more like a bank robber than a flower delivery man.

"My name is Yelena..." I could feel my face turning red. As a child, I was very self-conscious about my name, and suddenly those feelings were rushing back to me. I wanted to get up and leave.

"Hmm..." he breathed slowly, staring off into the distance. "Polish?"

I laughed nervously. "Russian."

"It's beautiful," he turned in his seat to face me, trying to disguise a grin by coughing into his wrist. "When do you work?"

I hesitated. Did I really want to give this man, basically a stranger, as much information as I'd been giving him?

I realized I'd been silent for longer than I would've liked, trying to decide whether or not to continue speaking with him. "Um, five o'clock," I chirped. "I finish at nine."

"Well, isn't that a coincidence?" he smiled, leaning back in his chair. "I'm off at nine, too". Again, I felt redness coming to my face. Something about him -the way he looked and his job, even his name, Oliver - intrigued me. I wanted to skip work just so I could continue being in his presence.

I continued to eat my soup. Oliver still sat next to me, watching me purse my lips over the spoon as I sipped the broth, now a lukewarm temperature. I tried to ignore him, but I could feel my pulse racing in my throat and chest.

He didn't speak until it was nearly five o'clock, saying only, "I hope your night goes well!", and winking as I cleaned up and headed for the elevator.