The Surrey library's philosophy section sits at the far end of the second floor, past the study tables, where the light goes long and yellow in the late afternoon and the air smells like dust. The library is an antiseptic, curved, bare concrete, industrial work of art, designed by the famous architect Bing Thom, but considered quite ugly by most locals. A rolling cart of returns waits in the aisle, half unloaded. Reggie stands with his back to the window, a book open in one hand, scanning a wall of spines that run from the pre-Socratics to the postmoderns and back again.
Anna
She comes down the aisle pushing the cart, slowing when she sees someone occupying the exact patch of shelf she needs, the gap where the 190s give way to the 200s.Excuse me.She tips the next book up out of the pile — a cracked-spined volume of Kierkegaard — and gestures with its corner at the stretch of shelf behind his shoulder.I need to get past you. Just for a second.
You can keep browsing. I'm not going to shoo you out. Probably.
Reggie
Certainly. Do you work here?
Anna
She slides past him sideways, close enough that the cart's wheel rims the toe of his shoe, and slots the Kierkegaard into the gap with the flat of her palm.I do.She squares the spine against the others, nudges it until it sits flush.Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and whichever weekend day nobody else wants. If you're looking for a recommendation, I'm off the clock in ten minutes and I'm biased toward the depressing ones. That's a warning, not a pitch.
Reggie
You've read all these?
Anna
She doesn't answer right away, tipping her head to read the spine he's holding, then letting her eyes run the length of the shelf.All of them? God, no.She pulls the empty cart back toward her hip and parks one hand on the handle.I've read maybe a third. The rest I just know where they go, which is a different kind of intimacy entirely. What'd you pull?
Reggie
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. I asked ChatGPT for a book for someone who thinks none of this universe really matters all that much so we might as well just enjoy it.
Anna
She laughs — one short breath through her nose, more surprise than amusement.ChatGPT told you to read a Roman emperor because nothing matters.She leans her forearms on the cart handle.That's the most twenty-first-century sentence I've heard all week.
Here's the thing about Marcus, though. He didn't think nothing mattered. He thought almost nothing mattered — and the almost was doing a lot of lifting. He wrote that thing to himself, every night, in a tent, on the edge of a war he didn't want. That's not a man enjoying the ride. But sure. Enjoy it, by all means.
Reggie
The alternative if someone is looking for "Nothing Else Matters" is Metallica, which I dislike, so I'll try Marcus Aurelius.Smiles. I notice no ring on her ring fingerWas telling me you're off the clock in a few minutes an instruction to hurry up with the questions, or an offer to talk more after you're done work?
Anna
She straightens off the cart, taking her weight back onto her heels, and looks at him properly for the first time — the open book, the ringless hand, the question that wasn't really about scheduling.Neither. It was me telling you what my evening looks like so you'd know I'm not about to get in trouble for talking to you at the desk.She taps the cart handle once.People assume the shelving is the job. The shelving's the part I like. The desk is where they watch you. You always answer a question with a question, or is that a Meditations thing you're already practicing?
Reggie
I had better read the book before I practice its teachings. Would you like to join me for a coffee in however many minutes are left before you're off? Say Dominion across the plaza?
Anna
She looks at him for a second, longer than the question needs, then reaches down and starts wheeling the cart back the way she came, one hand flat on the top of the stack.Dominion.She says it to the shelf, not to him.There's a girl who works the counter there who waters down the cold brew when she's in a mood, so if it tastes like brown water, that's Bexley, not you. Ten minutes. You're standing in front of the Neoplatonists, by the way. If you grab one of those on your way out you can tell ChatGPT you leveled up.
Reggie
I'll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.
Anna
Ten minutes, then.She gives him a single nod, unhurried, and swings the cart back around toward the return desk.
The cart's wheels tick over the floor and fade toward the far end of the section, past the study tables and the long yellow bars of light. The clock above the return desk reads a few minutes to the hour. The aisle is left the way he found it: the Neoplatonists at his shoulder, the Kierkegaard sitting flush where she put it, and the whole wall of spines going on as though nobody had stood here at all.
Reggie
Ten minutes passes. Reggie is in the lobby near Dominion holding the copy of Meditations he just checked out. Anna walks up.Hey. You came. I know I shouldn't be surprised but it's 2026 and you just exceeded expectations.
Anna
She's changed out of the lanyard, at least — it's hanging out of her coat pocket instead of around her neck, which might be the most off-duty she's capable of looking on short notice. She stops a few feet short of him, clocks the Meditations, and the corner of her mouth moves.You checked it out.She says it like she's deciding whether to be pleased about that.And I exceeded expectations by showing up. What were your expectations, exactly — that I'd get to the entrance, have a crisis of judgment, and go home to my cat?
Reggie
I don't see a ring. You know what dating is like these days. Showing up is noteworthy.We walk inSit at the bar or get a table?
Anna
She falls into step beside him without hesitation, one hand pushing the lanyard deeper into her coat pocket.Fair point. The bar. Tables are for people who aren't sure they want to be there. And I'm here, so.
Reggie
We sit at the bar, but I find a spot far away from anyone else. The Punjabi bartender asks me what I'll have.If Guinness is on tap, I'll have that.
The bar at Dominion runs the length of the east wall, dark wood and pendant lights, mostly empty at this hour. Reggie steers them down toward the quieter end, away from the two after-work suits nursing scotches near the entrance. The bartender — a broad-shouldered man with a close-trimmed beard and the unhurried manner of someone who has been behind this particular bar a long time — sets down a rag and comes over without being waved at.
Anna
She settles onto the stool beside Reggie, shrugs her coat half off her shoulders without fully removing it, and glances at the tap handles when he orders.Make it two.She says it to the bartender, then to Reggie, by way of explanation:I wasn't going to order a latte at a bar. That's a different kind of crisis of judgment.
Reggie
Do you like it? Working at the Library, I mean.
Anna
She wraps a hand around the base of the pint glass the bartender sets down, doesn't drink yet, just holds it.Genuinely? Yeah. Most people assume it's a consolation prize — like I wanted to do something else and ended up there. But I went looking for it. The quiet's not incidental. The quiet is the whole point. The part I could do without is the Wednesday afternoon programming. Whoever decided librarians should also run craft hour for eight-year-olds has a lot to answer for.
Reggie
It's Surrey. It's not that quiet. Some drug addict was screaming as I checked out Marcus Aurelius.
Anna
She laughs — a real one this time, short but unguarded, and finally takes a drink.Okay, fair. The quiet is aspirational.She sets the glass down.That was probably Derek. He has a route. The philosophy section is actually on it, so technically you two have the same taste in real estate.
Reggie
I like the vibe in Surrey. It's rougher around the edges than Vancouver, but the average is 30 years younger and 100 times less pretentious. It's a good trade.
Anna
She turns the pint glass slowly on the bar, considering that.Derek would probably agree with you.She glances sideways at him.You live here or just romanticizing from Vancouver?
Reggie
I have a small condo here in Surrey and a smaller office in downtown Vancouver. And a monthly SkyTrain pass.
Anna
She absorbs that — the math of it, the commute, the deliberate split — and nods once, slow, like she's filing it.So you actually live it.She picks up her pint.Most people who say they like Surrey mean they like the idea of liking Surrey. The authenticity of it. And then they go home to Yaletown. What's the office for?
Reggie
Honestly, to keep me from living my whole life in my condo and never going outside. I could work from home if I wanted.
Anna
She sets the pint down carefully and looks at him sideways.So the commute's not about the office at all. It's a forcing function. That's an unusually honest answer for a first drink. Most people would've said something about networking or face time with clients.
Reggie
None of my clients know my name. And most of them pay me $10/mo so I don't know their names, either. The joys of the Internet.
Anna
She turns that over for a second, looking at the bar rather than at him, then back.So it's completely anonymous on both sides.She picks up the pint.That's either very freeing or incredibly isolating and I can't tell which from the way you said it.
Reggie
It's freeing if you have a girlfriend. It's just lonely if you don't. And that wasn't meant as some weird pressure thing. Just the truth.
Anna
She looks at the pint in her hand.No, I know it wasn't.She sets it down.You said it the same way you answered the question about the office. Like you just decided not to dress it up.
Reggie
And you? Do you live here?
Anna
She turns the pint glass a quarter turn on the bar.Whalley, yeah. Ten-minute walk from the branch. Which people also find funny — like why would you live walking distance from a library in Surrey when you could, I don't know, live anywhere. But the commute math worked out the same as yours. I just don't have to get on a train to prove it.
Reggie
Well, homie, I know you actually wanted to be a librarian, that you like the quiet, that you live in Whalley by choice which itself is interesting, and that you've read more philosophy than most people. But I don't know your name. I'm Reggie. Reginald, actually, but nobody calls me that.
Anna
She blinks once — caught, and knowing she's caught, and not particularly bothered about it. A small pull at the corner of her mouth.Ten minutes in the philosophy section, ten minutes in the lobby, and half a Guinness and I didn't think to ask.She turns on the stool to face him a little more squarely and puts out her hand.Anna. And nobody calls me Reginald either, so we're already off to an excellent start.
Reggie
And are you really single, Anna, or is the ring in the purse until you get two blocks from home because you like attention?
Anna
She holds the handshake a half-second past the natural end of it, then lets go and picks up her pint with the same hand, a smooth redirect.That is a bold second question, Reginald.She takes a drink, unhurried, sets it down, and looks at him level.No. I'm actually single. Have been for about eight months, which is long enough that I've stopped counting in months but apparently not long enough that I've stopped doing the math just now. And I don't take it off. When I had one, I mean. Taking it off and putting it back is a lot of administration for an evening out.
Reggie
Me too, for whatever that's worth. A year now.
Anna
A year. So you've done the math too. For whatever it's worth — and I think it's worth something — I'm glad you said that instead of pretending you were just mysteriously, casually available.
Reggie
Have you tried the apps? And is your soul destroyed from them yet?
Anna
She exhales through her nose — that same short sound from the library, the one that's more recognition than laughter — and wraps both hands around her pint.Yes and yes.She looks at the bar.I deleted Hinge three weeks ago and reinstalled it four days later because someone at work asked if I was on it and I panicked and said yes. So now I'm on it again and I haven't opened it once, which is somehow the most peaceful relationship I've had with an app in two years. You?
Reggie
I deleted them a while ago. And yes I've reinstalled them before, too, but they've stayed deleted. I've decided to walk up to women and ask them to coffee instead, which can be a bit soul destroying in its own way but there's far less uncertainty.
Anna
She looks at him for a second, then at the Meditations sitting on the bar between their pints, then back at him.Less uncertainty.She repeats it like she's checking the math on it.You walk up to someone in a library and ask them to coffee and that's less uncertain than swiping. I mean. You're not wrong. You're sitting here. I'm just trying to figure out how many times you had to do it before it started feeling like a reasonable strategy and not an act of insane optimism.
Reggie
It's not a reasonable strategy. And by less uncertainty, I just mean that if a girl chooses to respond to a polite invitation by telling me to fuck off and that I look like a troll in a bad movie, at least I know where I stand immediately. I'm not waiting for a ping all night. And yes, that happens sometimes. But the apps are full of girls who don't show, who ghost, then come back after a few weeks when the other guy fizzled out and want to hook up now, and so on. It's...gross.
Anna
She listens to the whole thing without interrupting, which takes some restraint, and when he's done she doesn't reach for an immediate answer. She turns her pint glass on the bar, one slow rotation.The troll in a bad movie thing.She says it like she's reading a citation.Someone actually said that. Okay, so it's not less uncertain. It's just differently terrible, and at least the terrible is immediate and you can go home and have a drink and not be staring at your phone. The ghost-and-resurface thing is what I couldn't handle. The guy doesn't disappear because he's gone. He disappears because something better opened a tab and you're just on hold. That one I don't have a strategy for. I just stopped.
Reggie
Honestly a huge number of people are just on apps for the validation that some other person is interested and as soon as they get that, they're off to the next validation fix.
Anna
The validation loop.She sets her pint down with a little more intention than usual.Yeah. I watched a friend go through that for about a year. She'd get a match, chat for four days, get asked out, and the second the guy had a real yes in the bag he'd go quiet. Every single time. And she kept assuming it was something she said. It wasn't anything she said. She was just the fix. The ask was the point, not the answer. That's — I don't know what to do with a system that's specifically engineered to reward that.
Reggie
But the internet has desensitized people to the point where being rude is rewarded. Some girls say "no thank you" and I can totally accept that. I actually prefer that to the ones who want to give me a long explanation why. If the answer is no, the answer is no. That's all the information I need. But the rude ones...that's...hard to take. So I have a simple rule. The girl has to smile at me twice or I won't ask. And yes, you passed it. You smiled at me when excusing yourself to put the book away, and again when I asked you if the ten minute thing was to hurry me up or offer to talk more. That's enough for me to assume that, if you're not interested, you won't be unpleasant about it.
Anna
She goes still for a moment — not uncomfortable, just taking it in, the whole calculation laid out plainly in front of her. She looks at him.The smile rule.She says it quietly, not mocking it.That's surprisingly — I want to say methodical, but I think I mean decent. Most people are trying to read body language and talking themselves into ambiguous signals because they want to. You set a bar, and it's a bar that means the worst case is probably okay. For the record, I didn't notice I was smiling. I just — the question caught me off guard, which doesn't happen very often. Both of them did. So apparently you also have a rule about asking things that people aren't prepared for, and I'm wondering if that one's deliberate too.
Reggie
No, it's not a strategy. My questions are very rarely strategic but I tend to skip the dancing around to soften it part, which works with some people and offends others.
Anna
She absorbs that, turning her pint glass on the bar, not avoiding his eyes.So it's not about catching people off guard. You just don't see the point of the buffer.She considers that for a second, genuinely.I think I'm somewhere in the middle. I skip the softening too, usually, but I take longer to decide it's safe to. The fact that you just — go, right out of the gate — I can't tell yet if that's confidence or just how you're wired and you've never thought to do it differently. Which one is it?
Reggie
I don't know how to do it differently. But don't think I'm quick to decide, either. You're the first girl I've asked to coffee in a month. Most flunk the two smile rule. And you're the first girl in my life who voluntarily ordered a Guinness. And I'll spare you unconvincing compliments and fluff but I noticed.
Anna
She looks at him for a moment, then down at her pint — the dark stout, the thin collar of foam.The Guinness thing is going to embarrass me if I let it, so I'm going to choose not to let it.She picks up the glass, holds it up a few inches — not quite a toast, just an acknowledgment.I started ordering it because my ex thought it was weird for a woman to drink stout. Which is a stupid reason to do anything, but here I am, and it turns out I actually like it, so that worked out. And I'm wired the same way you are, I think. I don't go first often. But once I decide it's worth it, I go. So the month and the smile rule and the sparing me the fluff — noted. And appreciated. Actually appreciated, not politely-said appreciated.
Reggie
I like it, though. This Guinness tap is ordinary. It's not total garbage like the one at Boston Pizza in the mall. If you ever order a Guinness there, it will taste like motor oil. This tap is ok. It tastes like Guinness. But if you really want the best Guinness tap in town, it's at Wicklow, on Moberly under the Cambie Bridge. And yes, that's an invitation.
Anna
You've done a regional survey.She picks up her pint, takes a measured sip, and holds it for a second before swallowing.Okay. You're not wrong about this one. It's not special but it's honest. I know Wicklow. I've walked past it approximately forty times and never gone in because it always looks like the kind of place where everyone already knows each other and you feel it the second you walk through the door. Is that actually true or is that just what it looks like from the sidewalk?
Reggie
It's true and everyone knows me. I've known one guy there since we were 16. He doesn't work there. We both have old boats at Heather Marina. Old boats. Neither of us is rich. But decent ones. Nothing to be ashamed of, just nothing anyone's going to call a yacht. He can actually dock his boat decently. I'm still learning.
Anna
So it's true and you're the reason it's true for some people.She sets her pint down.That's a different problem than I thought it was. I can work with that. Old boats. What kind?
Reggie
A Bayliner 2452. $25k and I put $10k in it, so it cost less than your car. But it floats and it's fun and I'm there most Sundays.
Anna
She takes that in — the numbers, the specificity, the way he said it like a dare.A Bayliner.She says it like she's tasting it.My dad had a 2452. Same era, probably. White hull with that brown stripe that fades to orange after about three summers in the sun. He couldn't dock his either, for what it's worth. He just did it confidently and blamed the wind, every time, without fail. So you're already ahead of him on the self-awareness front.
Reggie
Did you ever learn to dock it?
Anna
She laughs — a real, unguarded one, and doesn't try to pull it back.No.She shakes her head once.I was twelve. He wasn't really the kind of dad who handed you the wheel and said go ahead, try it. He was more the kind who'd let you watch so you'd know what confidence looked like regardless of outcome. I've thought about taking sailing lessons a few times. Never pulled the trigger. I don't know if that's actually about sailing or just something I tell myself when I want to feel like I have plans.
Reggie
I had a sailboat once. I totally despised it. I'm just not a sailor. At least my Bayliner goes places. And trips to Victoria aren't measured in days.
Anna
She grins — not the dry corner-of-mouth thing but an actual grin, surprised out of her.A sailor who hated sailing.She picks up her pint.Okay, I respect that more than if you'd loved it. Nothing worse than someone who keeps doing a thing they hate because the thing sounds good at dinner parties. Victoria in a Bayliner, though. How long does that run take you?
Reggie
Three and a half hours if everything lines up perfectly. Five if nothing does. Four to four and a half most times.
Anna
She considers that — the spread of it, the honest variance — and nods like someone filing a useful piece of information away for no specific reason yet.Four to four and a half. That's not nothing for a day trip. You'd have to leave early.She glances at him sideways.Do you, or is it more of a float-around-the-harbour situation and the Victoria thing is mostly theoretical?
Reggie
I'm a city boy. I'll book a berth in one of the local marinas for a night or two. Right in Victoria if I can find one. Nearby if I can't. Then I'll spend the days walking around Victoria's downtown, which I find very pretty. The Royal Museum out there is amazing. Sometimes I'll rent a Modo for a few hours and do the oceanfront lap. It's a relatively cheap and fun trip. It also totally filters out girls, and yes I'm telling you this so you can decide if you want to be filtered out. The posh girls who want to arrive in a yacht and have everyone envy them would hate every minute of it. The ones who know nobody is impressed and don't care, and who say "let's try that street food by the marina", they love it.
Anna
She turns her pint glass once on the bar, then looks at him.You're telling me what the trip actually is so I can self-select out before you've invested anything. That's either very efficient or very considerate and I think it might be both. For the record, I grew up eating my dad's terrible galley cooking on a boat in the rain off Horseshoe Bay because he didn't believe in marinas, so the street food by the water sounds like an upgrade. I'd want to see the museum. I've been meaning to go back since I was in school and I keep not going, which is becoming a pattern I'm noticing about myself tonight.
Reggie
Mild correction: before EITHER of us have invested anything. Even if all a girl invests is time, if I can save her the disappointment, I will. She might elect to try it and still be disappointed but that's just life. But if she knows in advance this isn't for her, everyone has better things to do.
Anna
She holds the correction for a beat, testing the edges of it, and nods.Before either of us. Right. That's — yeah, that's the more honest version of it. You know what I keep waiting for? The part where the framing shifts and it turns out you're actually just optimizing for yourself and the considerateness is a feature of the pitch. And it keeps not happening. Which I'm choosing to take at face value, for now, with appropriate reserves. The pattern I'm noticing about myself tonight is that I keep telling you things I'd normally take another month to say to someone. So we're both doing something here.
Reggie
That's actually the elegant part of the whole design. If the goal is convincing a girl to go with you, then sure, this is a bad approach. If the goal is mutual enjoyment, then I actually am totally optimizing for myself. Because I can't enjoy myself if a girl is miserable. Or even if she isn't miserable but she just wishes she was somewhere else. So if you're wired like that, and I am, the only way to satisfy your own pleasure receptors is ensure that the other person isn't disappointed or otherwise suffering. So you can treat my approach as entirely self centered.
Anna
She's very still for a moment, and then she picks up her pint and takes a slow drink, and when she sets it down she's looking at the bar, not at him, working through it.So it collapses the distinction entirely. Self-interest and consideration for the other person aren't in tension — they're the same circuit.She looks at him.That's actually hard to argue with, which is irritating, because my instinct was to push back on it and now I can't find the seam. The only thing I'd add is that it only works if you're actually wired that way and not just telling yourself you are. Some people think they can't enjoy themselves if the other person's miserable and then turn out to be fine with it when it comes down to it. How do you know which one you are?
Reggie
I have no answer for you other than my 35 years of experience. Which shouldn't be convincing to you. Perhaps you'll give me the chance to prove it in some low-stakes way before risking a boat trip with me.
Anna
She looks at him for a long moment, the way she looks at a shelf she's trying to sort.Low-stakes. That's a reasonable offer. What did you have in mind for low-stakes, or are you leaving that open on purpose?
Reggie
I'll give you two choices. Option one, we hop the train to New West, two stops, ten minutes, have dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory just because if you haven't done that, you're not allowed to live in the Lower Mainland, and then we spend an hour walking the new boardwalk which is beautiful. Or option two, we stay right here in Dominion, order the best thing on the menu which is probably the Poké bowl but you can choose for yourself, and then we go outside and play ping pong on those public tables for an hour. The paddles are in the library, as I'm sure you know better than I do.
And yes, I mean right now. Unless you need to go.
And yes, I mean right now. Unless you need to go.
Anna
She stares at him for a second — not the long assessing kind, just a flat beat of surprise at the specificity of it, two fully-formed options, right now, laid out like a menu.The paddles.She says it quietly, almost to herself, and then a real laugh comes out, short and helpless.Yes, I know where the paddles are. I'm the one who made the sign that says they're at the circulation desk. I made it at home in fifteen minutes and I'm still embarrassed by the font I chose. I've done the Spaghetti Factory twice and both times were exactly what they were supposed to be, which is a specific and irreplaceable thing. But if we leave, I finish this first. Ping pong. Because I want to see what low-stakes looks like when you're losing.
Reggie
I guarantee that I'll lose. I suck at ping pong. And if you win, which you will, I'll buy you dessert back here at Dominion. Deal?
Anna
She finishes the last inch of her Guinness and sets the glass down with a small decisive click, then slides off the stool and pulls her coat the rest of the way on.You're pre-conceding and attaching a reward condition.She does up her coat button without looking at it, doing it by feel.Deal. But if I lose, you're still buying dessert, and I'm ordering the thing with the most syllables on the menu regardless of what it is.
Reggie
Punjabis bought this place a year ago. The desserts are...not subtle. Another Guinness with dinner? And get a table or stay here at the bar?
Anna
She pauses with one coat button half-done and looks back at him.Not subtle.She repeats it like she's reading a warning label, then finishes the button.That sounds like a threat and also exactly right. Bar. We're already here and the stools are better for arguing about who actually lost. Yes to another Guinness, but after — if I'm running around a ping pong table I'm not doing it on a full pint. You can tell me about the Punjabi transition on the walk over. I know this place changed hands but I don't know the story.
Reggie
You know, people think I'd get along well with the Punjabis because they're brown. And for 90% of them, that's true. But 10% of them think I look South Indian and I probably personally stormed their Golden Temple in Amritsar in 1984. It makes for some interesting encounters.
Anna
She stops walking, just briefly, and looks at him sideways.That is a very specific ten percent.She falls back into step.Do you correct them or just let it sit there and watch where it goes?
Reggie
I tell them I'm not South Indian or any Indian and I've never been to India and I truly don't give a shit if they separate the Punjab to form Khalistan, but if they're determined to dislike me, that doesn't dissuade them. Again, 90%...no, 99% are great. They're brown, I'm brown, we nod at each other's brownness and get on with our day. It's usually good. Just not always.
Anna
She processes that for a second — the whole construction of it, the frank accounting, the ninety-nine percent versus the one.So you've actually tried explaining the geopolitics. Out loud. To the person who's already decided. That is an extremely patient thing to do with your time. I grew up white in Whalley, so the closest I get to that is someone assuming I voted for whoever they hate, which is not even in the same category and I know it.
But the nod thing — the nod between two brown people in a room full of people who aren't — I've watched that happen at the library a thousand times and never had a word for what it is. Is it solidarity or is it just recognition?
But the nod thing — the nod between two brown people in a room full of people who aren't — I've watched that happen at the library a thousand times and never had a word for what it is. Is it solidarity or is it just recognition?
Reggie
I don't even know what it is. I feel no particular affinity for brown people. I grew up under the care of white people almost exclusively. I am culturally white. I experience no hardship from being brown so there's no shared misery to draw on. But you know, I drive a six-year-old Mazda Miata. If I see another Miata on the road, I wave. I think that's all it is.
Anna
She laughs — full and genuine, the kind that comes out before she can decide whether to let it.The Miata.She says it once, flat, and then shakes her head slowly, still smiling.That's the most deflationary possible answer to a question I was prepared to think hard about, and I think you're completely right and it's going to bother me for a week. It's not solidarity. It's just — same car, weird wave, keep driving. So what you're saying is the nod is basically a Miata wave, and the one percent who hate you are the guy who cuts you off anyway.
Reggie
Right. My Miata is an automatic. Most are manuals. 99% of Miata people shrug and say "I prefer manuals but nice car." 1% feel that I'm a truly horrible person for buying an automatic. I'm actually slightly amused at how well this Miata analogy is fitting Khalistani politics.
Anna
She stops walking — actually stops, two steps from the door, and turns to look at him.The automatic. So the Khalistanis aren't even mad at the right car. They're mad at the transmission. Okay. That's going in the mental file under things I cannot explain to anyone who wasn't here for the full setup.
Reggie
We order, we eat dinner, we walk over to the library and pick up paddles and ping pong balls and play a few games. Anna wins easily. Then we head back to Dominion for dessert.I should get the bigger dessert as a consolation prize.
Anna
She's already walking through the door, holding it open without looking back.You want the consolation prize.She lets the door go and turns to face him, paddles in hand — she collected both, because of course she did, efficient, no ceremony about it.Reggie. You told me you were going to lose. You pre-conceded before we'd touched a single ball. You are not allowed to be surprised by the outcome and then monetize your own prophecy. You're getting dessert because we made a deal and because you're buying. Not because you lost. That's a critical distinction.
Reggie
Fine. As long as I get my dessert, I don't care about the rationale.We order dessert and eat it. Then order another Guinness each. And then it's almost 11 pm and they're closing soon. The waitress says fifteen minutes. Reggie looks at Anna, right in her eyes.I've really enjoyed tonight. Thank you for joining me.
Anna
She looks back at him and holds it for a second.I did too. Which I wasn't entirely expecting when I said yes in the philosophy section, so that's something. What I was expecting was one drink and a polite exit. You gave me the Miata theory of ethnic identity and I played ping pong for the first time in years. It was a good night. So what happens now — are you the kind of person who makes a plan before he leaves, or the kind who says he'll text and then actually does it?
Reggie
I have no plan. But I want you to know some things. First, I really like you. And I'm not saying that to move things along. I just...really like you. Second, I'm not looking for a hookup and then to vanish. Third, I'm also most definitely not looking to be your WhatsApp buddy and I want to make that clear up front. And fourth, I would like to see you again, and if you're willing to give me your number, I'm willing to call it. Soon.
Anna
Four things.She says it softly.That is a very organized declaration for eleven o'clock on a Tuesday. I like you too. And the WhatsApp buddy thing — I know exactly what you mean, and yes, thank you for naming it, because that particular slow fade is its own special kind of awful. Put your number in. I'll text you mine right now, tonight, before I'm two blocks away and the moment has a chance to get complicated in my head. And then you call it. Soon means something different to everyone so I'll just say — don't wait so long that I start wondering if soon was polite for never.
Reggie
Then let's define soon. It's Tuesday. Are you free on Friday night?
Anna
She has her phone out, thumb paused over the screen, and the question lands before she's finished typing. She looks up.Friday.She says it once, just to hear it, then looks back down at the phone and finishes the text — sends it, watches his buzz — before answering.Yeah. I'm free on Friday. What are you thinking, or is that also going to come in two fully-formed options?
Reggie
New West wasn't a bad backup plan. Let's use it. Dinner first, then the boardwalk, maybe a show at that little theatre they have there, and after, we can find one of those riverfront bars and listen to white-haired mariners who look like ZZ Top telling stories about their adventures. And we can do it all by train so two more Guinnesses won't bring any guilt.
Anna
She reads the text confirmation on her phone — her own number, now in his — and locks the screen.New West. Dinner, boardwalk, possible theatre, and then we end up in a riverfront bar listening to someone named Dave who has seventeen opinions about the Fraser and a beard that predates the internet. You planned that the whole time, didn't you. The two options tonight — this was always the one you wanted to use. Friday. Train. I'll meet you at the platform, not the lobby. We're past the lobby.
Reggie
6 pm in front of the Surrey Central SkyTrain Station, which is about 20 metres from here?
Anna
She stands up from the barstool — coat already on, phone in her pocket, paddles still on the bar between them, neither of them having thought to return them yet — and looks at him for a moment.Six pm on the dot, or I'm going in without you.She picks up one of the paddles, turns it over once in her hand, and sets it back down.Someone should probably return these.
Reggie
I'll return them. Anna, just one more question, please. Are you seeing anyone else?
Anna
She stops halfway to the door and turns back, caught on the question, the way she was caught twice in the philosophy section.No.She says it clean, no footnotes.Nobody. Eight months is a long time to not be looking, and then tonight happened, so — no. There's no one. Is that what you needed to know before Friday, or is that what you needed to know before you let me leave tonight?
Reggie
I didn't need to know. You promised me nothing. But I wanted to know. Thank you for telling me.
Anna
She stands there for a second, one hand almost on the door, and looks at him.That's a very precise distinction.She says it softly.Between needing to know and wanting to. Six pm, Friday. Don't be late or I'm telling Marcus Aurelius on you.
Reggie
I'll return these ping pong paddles. Until Friday. I am looking forward to it.
Anna
She follows the point with her eyes — the station entrance, the plaza, the exact unremarkable stretch of pavement, near where a woman with a cart of Kierkegaard asked a man to move.Return the paddles, Reggie. I'll see you Friday.