She tells him he’d have to take a ticket and wait in line, just like the rest of the guys in front of him.
He presses the button, and a ticket comes out.
“It says ‘one’,” he says to her, thinking that the number on the ticket he had gotten should have been much larger, judging from the number of people already in line.
She says nothing, but smiles.
With great patience, he gets in line, behind all the others who were already there.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting in line,” he replies.
“I thought you said your number was ‘one’?”
“Yes. Yes it is. But these people came before me.”
“Come here,” she says, signaling him over with her finger.
She continues, “stand here. You got the number ‘one’, so you stand here. Got it?”
“Yes. I think I got it,” he says. She smiles again.
He looks at the guy in front of him.
He’s trying so hard… doing so much. he thinks, as he watches him. He feels like walking away. This was a mistake.
“Next!” she calls.
He looks at her, and sees the guy before him stumbling away, defeated, exhausted.
How hard he has been chasing her, trying to win her over, only to fail in the end…
How can I compare? But taking a deep breath, he steps forward, and approaches her anyway.