You sit next to her, getting ready to ask her to the dance. She doesn’t notice and keeps working. You scooch a bit closer. She finally notices and stops typing. But she pretends not to notice. The keyboard kept clacking. Your heart keeps thumping. A bead of sweat slipped down your cheek. You scooch a little bit closer. She stops working, closes her laptop, and puts it in her backpack. She gets right next to you, while you are slurping your iced coffee. The barista started watching at a distance. She casually sits there looking out the window, waiting for you to do something. You’re not entirely sure whether she did it by accident or on purpose. “Hi, Angela. What’s up?” She holds your hand and says, “Mrs. Hansen’s climate change homework as usual.” She blushed a little and leaned on you. You didn’t know what to do, so you lean your head on hers. The barista whispers, “Awwww.” You look at the barista, and she quickly looked away. You close your eyes, then you find yourself lying on your bed. Then she lays next to you. You feel quite weird, and she looks tall. You hear wailing to see a little infant in a crib across the room, and a gold ring around your finger. “Come on, hurry up,” she tells you.