Slumping down in her chair exhausted and fed up she wonders how she will conjure up the effort to do this assignment. As her account details appear on the screen, a message flashes before her eyes, you have new mail. She clicks the icon and reads the message, hello my sweet girl from Timbuctoo, I can see you from where I’m sitting, you make me smile. Momentarily she remembers a scene from a film that she loves; a girl at a computer, the image of her crush appearing in front of her, the crush standing up and smiling. These things only happen in the movies don’t they? She looks around furtively to see who has written this heart-fluttering message and she sees him sat not two or three rows away from her. Fred. The sweetest boy at uni. Fred with the heart-melting smile and the eyes that crinkle up at the corners when he laughs. Fred whose eyes dance whenever she walks into the room. She waves a small wave and beams a smile at him. Then she slumps back into her chair and heaves a silent sigh – risk is not a game she likes to play. If only she were free to find out if he felt about her, the way she did about him.
