Ok, so you tell me, what’s a good pick up line. I’m sure you’ve heard them all.’ ‘That’s a good pickup line. Ask a girl what’s a good pi...kup line,’ she said, pointing a finger at me for emphasis. She had a way of tilting her head when spoke that was positively endearing. It made the shimmer on her silky black hair undulate. She had obviously had a few drinks. I moved next to her. ‘You’re Indian. What are you doing here?’ ‘No,’ she said, turning on her stool to face, ‘that’s not a good line.. I was 19 at the time, in my third year of collage. Always a year younger than my classmates, I tended to be a quiet observer. I was not unhappy with life, but I found it to be overwhelming most of the time. So many things to do and see, that it was almost overwhelming for me. I had a great counselor who made sure I had the classes I needed for my degree and eased the anxiety there, but there was times that such small decisions such as what to wear or where to go for dinner caused me great. More

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