It was an ordinary day in my internship, or so I thought. My hands were busy with lines of code when two students walked in with their teacher, searching for a place to learn. Nothing unusual—at least, not until the next morning.
When their first day began, I noticed her. Among the new faces, one caught my gaze and refused to let go. One word echoed in my mind: pretty. There was something about her presence—subtle yet magnetic. I found myself watching longer than I should, though her eyes never once searched for mine.
Every afternoon, when it was time to leave, they would shake hands with the employees, myself included. And in those brief moments, as our hands touched, I noticed the quiet beauty in her eyes. It was fleeting, fragile—yet enough to make my heart linger.
Then came the last day of my internship. I couldn’t let the curtain fall without trying. So I searched for her, asked where she was, and when I finally stepped into the room, there she was again. Radiant. Graceful. Too beautiful to let slip into memory without at least a word.
I broke the silence with small questions to the group, saving her for last, because I wanted our exchange to last a little longer. And it did. Her answers carried weight—dreams, ambitions, visions of the future.
She spoke of the university she wished to reach, the goals she held close to her chest.
Her determination lit a fire within me—a wish to support, to see her soar.
We shared fragments of joy: anime, games—her eyes lit up at Minecraft and Roblox, and my heart smiled, because I loved them too. Her passion for English was a melody to me, and her fluency, flawless. She switched between tongues—Indonesian, English, Javanese—each flowing effortlessly, without trace of the other. It was a gift, and I admired it.
She was bold, outspoken, her laughter carrying the ease of an extrovert. And as I walked away on my final day, I could not help but wonder—what is her story? what is her MBTI? And would I ever get the chance
to know her beyond this fleeting encounter?
