The aroma of coffee grounds envelops me as I stand in line at the campus cafe, eyes glued to my phone screen. Coming here at night when it's quiet has become part of my routine. Baby steps outside my hermit shell.

I mumble my order to the bored barista and slide my card to pay. As I wait for my drink, a bubbly laugh from the corner pierces through the indie music playing overhead. I glance up on instinct.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by a peal of laughter ringing out in the cafe, cutting through the mellow indie music like a ray of sunlight. I glance up to see a girl holding court with friends, her head tossed back in abandon.

Her long mahogany hair cascades over an emerald jacket, calling to mind chestnut waterfalls. She has an energy about her that draws the eye, like the pull of the moon's glow across a night's sky.

As she smiles and chatters, her eyes glitter like jewels, two pools of hazel flecked with gold. Her lips, pink as seashells, seem to spread joy simply by their upturned corners. She moves with the grace of a dancer, lithe frame settling back into the chair, every gesture flowing seamlessly into the next.

I notice a constellation of freckles across her nose, making her seem down to earth for all her beauty. Her stylish outfit flatters her figure, yet she gives off an air of approachability. As she doodles on a napkin, her brow furrows in concentration, revealing an artistic soul beneath the social butterfly aura.

I'm struck by an urge to connect to this radiant girl whose vitality calls to mind spring's awakening. Before the moment can fade, I summon my courage and make my approach. "Hello, I'm Paul," I manage, enraptured by her eyes, twin beacons drawing me in.

"I'm Lucy," she says. Her voice is smooth and melodic, making me more self-conscious of my own monotone mutter.

We chat, but I can't find the rhythm or think of anything clever to say like the guys she usually talks to probably can. She seems like someone who's always surrounded by friends, the kind of extroverted social butterfly I've never known how to be around.

I'm too in my own head, overanalyzing every response. Our conversation feelschoppy and strained. Her attention keeps drifting away as if she'd rather be anywhere else. I can't blame her - she's way out of my league.

When she laughs at something I say, the sound twists in my ears. Is she just being polite or is it genuine? I can never tell. Reading social cues has never been my forte.

As we talk, my mind spirals into dark places. She probably finds me so boring. She's just killing time until her friends are ready to go, then she'll forget this awkward guy who can't make small talk. Why did I think this could turn into something real?

I search desperately for the right words to keep her interest, to spark that light in her eyes again. But the well has run dry. Silences swell between us that I don't know how to fill.

Finally Lucy checks the time on her phone and makes excuses to leave. My heart sinks, though I know deep down no magical connection was forming here. She's just being nice - I'm too messed up inside for someone that radiant.

I thank her for chatting as she gets up to go. No number exchange or plans to meet again, no surprise there. I drag my feet home under the dark clouds, kicking myself for getting my hopes up.Loneliness is all I deserve.