Link sauntered to his car. He was in no rush to get home. For the first time in years, he was actually looking forward to school. Perhaps it was because school was often so demanding that it left no room for wandering thought, a mouse that had been running in the wrong direction, circling throughout the maze without any progress towards the cheese, for so long. But more likely it was about Zelda. "Zelda." He tried the name on his tongue, which tingled after he said it.

"Zelda," he said again. It was an interesting name. A smart name. He liked it. It certainly beat the name "Link," which was stark and bland in comparison. He decided to try something. "Link and Zelda." Now that worked. He smiled to himself, amused at his own reverie. He had reached his car. Before he entered he took a quick glance around him. The school, now that the orientation was over and most of the students had scattered, looked serene. Large white buildings, sprinkled with colorful floral landscaping. He took a deep breath and turned to his car. He said the name one last time. "Zelda."

"Yes?" was the reply.

Link gasped and spun around, shocked to find Zelda standing there, wearing a witty expression and a calm demeanor. "I...didn't expect you to be there."

"Then I did my job correctly."

"You're just too clever for me, aren't you?"

"That remains to be seen the day you catch me unawares, whispering your name."

Link unlocked his car and opened the door, though his gaze was still fixed on Zelda. "Well, if you want to be blunt about it, then by all means, do so."

"Blunt about what?"

Link touched his chin thoughtfully, considering her. "I'll let you play innocent as long as you want," he decided. "Bye," he added, getting in his car.

"Wait!" she said hurriedly. "Um, you know, I have to wait until my mom gets here."

Link grinned. "Why do I need to know that?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "I'll let you play innocent as long as you want." She strode away.

"Damn," Link said, laughing. She didn't appear to hear him. So Link decided to be stubborn. He hadn't lost the banter battle yet. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. Zelda whipped her head around and watched him drive away. Then Link made a mistake. He caught her eye. He turned the car around and pulled back into the parking space, shut off the engine, and exited the car again, defeated. He had lost this battle.

"Glad you decided to join me!" Zelda called from the bench she was sitting.

"So am I!" Link replied. He walked over and sat down beside her, about a foot away.

She stared at the empty space between them. "Oh, don't be so pathetic. We're friends, after all, aren't we?" she asked, removing about six inches from that distance.

Link decided to make a daring move. It was time he did, seeing as she had already made several. He put his arm around her shoulders. It was her turn to blush now. It was time for a new battle, and this one seemed to be turning out in his favor. "Okay...so..." she started.

"Don't have any witty comeback for that, now, do you?" he asked.

She turned her gaze downward, though she was still smiling. "Touche."

The silence that happened afterward was not something Link had anticipated. "Um," he began. "So do we revert to small talk now, or what?"

"So how about that piano playing? And that really, really tall clone?"

"The piano," Link began, "is one of the few things I'm passionate about. Or music in general, rather. I also used to play violin, but I...lost it a while back and haven't got a new one since."

"Oh! How'd it get lost?"

He froze. How could he tell her that it had been on the starship when the Gerudo Marauders had attacked? "Well, that's a long story," he said.

She seemed to sense the fluctuation. "We have time."

"There are a lot better things to talk about."

She shrugged it off, deciding not to pursue the subject. "Okay." They were quiet for a while, trying to lift the fog of seriousness, which had somehow settled upon them against the will of either one. Had Link's aversion been so obvious? The fog remained. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?" she asked.

He took his arm away. "I'm sure." Regretfully, she gazed downward. Link shifted. "Look, I'm sorry if it makes you feel excluded, but there is such a thing as personal information."

"No, it's fine. And I'm glad you admit the experience is personal, whatever that may be, rather than making something up."

"I'm a terrible liar. I can't hold a poker face to save my life."

"That's only because you don't practice."

"Thanks. Although, I must say you have no way of knowing that." The fog had lifted. Link smiled.

"It's in your demeanor. You don't lie much."

Link shook his head. "Well, I'm glad it is." He spied a small, azure car pulling into the parking lot. Zelda moved a couple inches from Link. "That your mom?" he asked.

"I'm afraid it is."

"Hmm. Well, see you."

"Okay. Bye."

The car stopped impassively at the curb and Zelda entered, sending a last glance toward Link. He smiled, and waited for the car to disappear down the road before standing up with a sigh and walking to his. "Zelda," he said one last time, letting the name roll off his tongue pleasantly.

He started the car and the seat rumbled beneath him, coinciding with the grumble of his stomach, whose presence he hadn't recognized until now. He scanned the varied shops and restaurants on the way home. A modest pizza place snatched his attention, and, after brief consideration, he pulled in. As he opened the door of the building, a wave of cool air brushed against his face, dispelling the presence of the comfortably warm air outside. His skin soon adapted to the air conditioning. He stepped up to the counter, where workers were darting about busily, and made his order, a slice of pepperoni and jalapeno pizza. He took his seat, running a hand lazily through his hair, and turned his attention to the news blaring on the TV screen.

The reporter was saying something about a local woman who had died last week. She had lived on the fourth story of a six-story apartment building. She had somehow trapped herself inside her apartment, so she called the police. The police didn't pay her so-called emergency much mind, so she tried to climb down from the window, an attempt which ended her in a mangled heap on the ground. The human soul, he thought, doesn't have the capacity to store such tragedies. Without emotional relation, they might as well be fiction.