Mitchell

With the arrival of spring, a new semester of my second year at college began. The warmth was soft and gentle, birds were singing everywhere, plants were green and buds were swelling. Your college was organizing another club exhibition. You'd created a small volunteer movement designed to help orphans with their studies. Although the college administration liked your idea, the students weren't interested. Few wanted to tutor troubled children. And as it was approaching midday, a young man stopped near your booth. He was tall and handsome, and you thought he might be a model or some kind of celebrity. “Hello,” he greeted. “Can you tell me what you have here?” You smiled with anticipation and quickly began chattering about your volunteer movement. After a minute, you stopped.

• Sorry, you're probably not that interested in this. "No, I like that idea. I'd like to discuss this in a more relaxed setting," he encouraged you with a smile. “Then here,” you took the business card, printed with your own money, and handed it to the guy. A light breeze blew a few petals between you, and your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him. “My name is Mitchell,” he said, taking the business card. “What’s your name?”