Yes, there were moments of delight: the smell of old, paper books collecting dust, the rough unvacuumed carpet under my feet, and the sound of distant chatter from round, wooden tables. The sunlight peering in from the tall window set the spotlight for the girl sitting down focused on what she came to focus on.
I let her sit on my mind and continued to walk past her. Looking for a seat to take, a bit of a dispute with myself took place in whether or not to take the seat in front of me or the one next to her. I found myself left with the thought of serendipity, but soon realized that this was more than a remarkable concurrence. I learned this moment was meant to be.
I’ve never met her, never have I engaged in conversation, but neither were we strangers. At least I didn't feel as so.
A jerk movement struck in my leg wanting to walk as though my whole body had finally agreed to, but not all at once. As soon as I reached her, I tapped her shoulder and politely asked, “Is this seat taken?” Pointing at the seat next to her, we quickly connected eyes as she shook her head no.
At that same moment my undeserving eyes would be punished to witness the beauty of the smile this girl had. Merely indicating that it was beautiful would not be sufficient to its fullest potential. Stunned, I took my seat and, without fully knowing then, had my moment of delight. Imagination only takes one so far.