It was a dinner date that got downgraded to a coffee date for lack of time and opportunity. Nevertheless, it lasted for four hours. Between two cups of French press coffee with an insufferable amount of condensed milk and another cup of tea, conversations happened.
There were so many tales to be told. Tales about art, paintings, exhibitions, photography, rocket engines, mergers and acquisitions, western music, farms in Hungary and eastern Europe, density ratios, fuel propellants, and camera lenses. Time was on supersonic wings. There is nothing more disheartening than someone constantly checking work emails during a conversation, but it is an unavoidable occupational hazard. Nevertheless, she did her best to look feminine. She even reapplied her lipstick and combed her hair in the restroom that day.
Soon, it was time to say goodbye. It started pouring, and as she watched the rain pour itself into an already brimming pool, she wondered how this would all end. She would perhaps shake hands, say formal goodbyes, and drive back home nodding her head to her latest favorite milne hai mujhse aayi.
Her prediction was partially off. That was the first time he hugged her. But not before shaking her hand and saying, “You have a very manly grip.”