I dumped the popcorn bag while exiting the theatre, which still had the smell of butter. See the thing is popcorns are overrated if you just focus on their taste. Particularly, without the smell of freshly melted butter, it tastes like Styrofoam with occasional bumps. It is not filling either and I wonder why people waste their money in such a thing like that. Maybe it is a sheer ritual, to be eating popcorns while watching a flick, something that is default and has to be religiously followed. We entered this Chinese eatery, obviously popcorn and his companions’ didn’t do their job, at 10:00 pm. Since it was a Saturday night, I was expecting it to be filled with people; then the chefs would be painting dishes with soy sauce and juggling orders in anguish. Rather it was quite calm and the top floor, which I prefer, had no occupancy. The setting was serene, lighting was dim, curtains half way opened and slow music in the background. And, before we were seated, the hostess brought plastic coated menus for us to look at. I had already made up my mind but all she wanted to eat was spring rolls. Diet conscious, maybe, she said she just does not have an appetite. She probably weighed as much as feather, her miniature frame with really long dark hair and she smelled like an exotic fruit you just want to take a bite off. The dinner was done within minutes, even before the hostess could ponder if we were going to leave good tips or not. The December weather was not that bad after all, nice mild wind hitting us with touch of coolness as we strolled through the empty streets. Things had eased up by then and we were comfortable talking to each other in real life, just like our online days. Her thoughts were often complimented by analogical web and were vastly political. Every assertion came with an offbeat example, adequately decorated with subjects that made you think. This was not your typical 19 year old girl who complained about burdening college assignments, loved shopping and talked about pretty boys in Hollywood movies, making Nepali guys like me inferior. Instead her analysis about anything was deep; it was drilling my brain with thought provoking queries that had matured beyond her age. I felt knowledge less against a girl who was 3 winters younger than me but then I also realized that this was no normal species. She wanted to become a lawyer and during that long course she wanted to bring her mom to this country due to uncertain political turmoil that was surrounding Nepal. Just like any other Nepalese women, she thinks about family. Her priorities were family and career, beautiful choices, I thought. Our 30 minutes of widening conversation was interrupted when we had to enter the subway transit. I dig my pocket to see if I had any change or tickets since she belonged to a different town. But unexpectedly, before I could complete my yet another unsuccessful attempt to land what I need at right time, there she was, handing me a ticket instead. Embarrassing huh, yep, I hate to be paid for. It is that ego thing; I would rather walk than have to ask for anything from anyone. Technically, I didn't ask but still I was being paid for by this little gem of a girl who could do no wrong. Subway rides are generally smooth but I hate the fact that I have to raise my volume to be heard. It kind of feels like I am yelling at times and confusing when you are trying to have a decent down to earth conversation. So, the trick is, if someone tells me something during the noisy ride and I don't quite understand it then I just smile back. Smile can do wrong, good situation or bad, it just exfoliates the situation with a healthy attitude. Before we realize it, we happen to be waiting for bus on a platform. I had already gone way past my station but since her relative told me to drop her off at her home no matter how late it became, I was carrying out that duty. It wasn't that awful after all, I was enjoying being with her, experiencing her tits and bits of life and her interpretation. Loyalty and self respect were her key ingredients to healthy life and she just didn't want to compromise those things with anything else. I don't know what it was but every time she spoke, she added new dimension to the image I had of her in my mind, fresh facet, new secret to her already complicated yet interesting persona. Growing up, her father was insignificant to her life but it was mostly due to unavoidable circumstances. Her mother took the bigger role doubling up both as Dad and Mom when they went through misery, monetarily and emotionally. It is hard to survive being deprived anywhere but even harder in developing countries. In those cases, you see no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel. Basically, you just stay idle or continue to crawl but the truth of the matter is, you are eventually nibbled by greedy rats and once they get their share, you just are left to rot. How tragic. She forgot the buzz code of her aunt's apartment with whom she was staying with. So, she used her cell phone to call them but found out that they were actually not home and would take another 10 minutes to get back. Just then I realized that my last bus to the subway station was leaving in few minutes so I had to move; I asked her if she was going to be alright until her relatives came back. She smiled back at me and said ok, she would be fine. I took some backward steps and wished for the time to congeal in obscurity. Nothing would move other than us and we would be there as much as we wanted to or until we jaded each other. Well, welcome to reality, I back pedaled and she watched me until I got to the other side of the road. She was waving her right hand and I was doing the same. It looked bit absurd with astronomical numbers of bye-byes and ta-tas that were transpiring. But then, during that moment, I felt like I would miss something after I left and maybe if was gutsy enough, I would have sprinted across the street at that very second, hugged her tight never to let her go. Tell her how much I had enjoyed the last five hours with her, how fresh her presence was to me and how lucky was I to be with her. Alas, life sometimes mystifies us with uncertainty of “ifs” and “thens” and swiftly moves by with no chance of repeating. My bus came, and as I was hopping in , I yelled..."call me or come online".