I was waiting for a chance to get close to her and break the invisible barrier of junior-senior hierarchy, so that I could get to know her on a person...l level. I got my chance a couple of months later. I was on my way to the football field for the evening practice, when I heard a familiar voice of sobbing from the bushes adjacent to the football field. When I went closer to the source I saw Anjali crying. Cautiously I went closer to her and asked her why she was crying. She said her current. The middle-aged woman behind the desk acknowledged her with a small smile. Where in the Dewey decimal system might he lurk, she wondered, her nerves jangling, her sneakers lightly squeaking on the linoleum, heading back into the stacks, rows and rows of metal shelving. When she turned a corner at the end of a row in the most remote part, she saw him at the same moment he grabbed her by the sweatshirt and pulled her to him, backed her against a row of shelves and kissed her hotly. She hadn’t. More

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