Her hair glazed the table as her head rose from its rest and approached him. Drawing in close enough to feel her breath on his lips. Their distance beside each other at the table had not stifled him until that moment, as all over his body began to radiate a discomforting inferno. With no clear intention of retreat she pushed further against his dumbstruck form. Leaning closer as she placed one hand on his chest to keep steady. Her long, thin, fingers bore a weight upon him disproportionate to the woman before him, and bore it straight upon his heart. Their lips met between the space no wider than her fingers. 

“A joke.” She whispered, smiling as she fell back to her own chair.

“A joke indeed…” muttered James as he threw his pen down in frustration. 

Two weeks it had taken him to write down that singular paragraph. Two weeks of utter confusion and brooding, and all he had to show was that single worthless paragraph. In short, he had no set up for the events he described, no follow up scenario. It was already a joke among his classmates that anything he presented was, without a doubt, not complete. He could never write the beginning of the story, nor the end. Time after time he tried, and all the professor could do for him was watch in amazement. It ought to have been simple. Just write the old Once Upon a Time and go from there. It was only a class assignment, no need to get wrapped up in silly pretension. 

“What joke?” Liza asked, managing to pry her eyes from her phone. 

“It wouldn’t be so bad if the stupid thing made sense.” James rested his chin on the library table while pouting in those and other unintelligible phrases. Liza pulled the sheet from under his head and looked it over in silence for a moment. Then, after about a thousand seconds longer than it should have taken to actually read the blurb, she chuckled under her breath. 

“It is funny.” She said, sliding it back as he raised his head. “Think Professor Cartwright will take it like that?” 

“Of course not. I’ve already tested the poor man's patience this much. I don’t think I have it in me Liz. Come on, put me out of my misery already.” With the constitution of a wet napkin he dropped his ear to the table and let his arms dangle at his sides. An old woman walking by glared at his unprofessional demeanor, prompting Liza to smile in embarrassment. 

“Fine, I’ll help you.” She said.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her like a puppy.

“Really?” 

“What are friends for? Besides everyone’s waiting for us at the bar. Look, it’s already half past eight. Come on, let's get to work.” She slid the band out of her hair and let it fall free. As he lifted his head and grabbed his pen again he hardly noticed that she had rested her own on the table in a mirror of his depression.  

“Liz?” 

“So, first problem. I’m resting my head because I’m tired. Come up with a reason why I raise it. Well?” She had rather bluntly put him on the spot with the roleplay. Dumbfounded, his eyes widened to the point of looking like a dying fish. Then, having seemed to gather his resolve, he patted his chest hard and sat straight. 

“Alright, close your eyes. You’re sleeping.” He said. 

With a smile she followed the order. James looked around to make sure nobody was watching them. A pair of older men were absorbed in their respective books in some lounge chairs a bit too close for comfort, but he assured himself they would not notice. Then he leaned over to the side of Liza’s resting head and moved the hair from her ear. Placing his lips close and whispering. 

“It’s time to go.” Then he recoiled out of sheer embarrassment. How could he have actually written something like that? Much less actually go along with her little game and agree to re-enact such a ridiculously unrealistic scene. 

Yet her eyes opened slowly as she refrained from protesting his embarrassing display. Under the haze of his unfocused diffidence she lifted her head slightly off the table as she brushed closer to him. 

“So what do you think?” He asked before, suddenly, she drew close to him. He could feel her breath on his lips, warm and full of life. So close he could even smell the perfume she used for that particular day. He had not realized it before, but they sat closer together than friends normally would have, and it had not bothered him in the slightest. Whether it was ignorance, focus on his work, or something else, he could not say at that moment. Only the realization of his sudden confinement to her space filled his mind. His shoes filled with lead as his body tried desperately to lean back into the chair, which gave no slack. 

Having to lean so far, she rested her hand on his chest as a crooked smile came across her lips. Her long, thin, fingers supported the small frame of the woman, but enacted a mystical effect on his chest. As though his flesh and bone had not felt the weight, and instead all of her had settled upon his very heart. Burning madly to support the sudden gravity. 

Then across a gap no longer than one of those thin little fingers, her lips opened. 

“A joke.” She closed the gap in an instant, pulling James in with her other hand. Then, after an eternity in such a state, she pulled back and stood from her chair. With a stern face she slid her phone into her pocket and turned away as she left the table behind. James, forgetting about his assignment completely, hurriedly packed his things into his bag and went after her, stuttering and pleading all the way. Finally she turned to face him at the front door of the library. 

“Look.” She said, seriously. “If you don’t get the joke then go put yourself out of your own misery!” Then, having stated her final word, she turned and walked across the parking lot to the car. He felt embarrassed, ashamed, stunned, perplexed, and many more complex emotions he had no clue how to organize. Yet watching her back as she fled the scene he noticed something that made him laugh. 

As Liza walked to the car, her ears were bright red.