Day 11: I still don't know his name...

It's utterly frustrating, and silly. How is it possible, that we've passed each other with salad bowls in our hands so many times, have our two-second "hellos," and yet, not know each other's names? There's this kid, who I believe lives in the 5300 building, whose name eludes me, though I keep telling myself it begins with an "S" ...

Spenser comes to mind, though no one with that name lives on that floor. I checked. Which is scary.

He's currently at the gameroom in the basement, should I ask? But here's the hilarious thing. I just spoke to him, inquired about his major, learnt he plays the viola, questioned his preference over the violin, and walked away without learning his name. Gee, I never thought I would be this bad at second introductions.

Yet, I fear I might die without the knowledge of his name, and it haunts me still. I'm a writer. That's my excuse. If there's something I don't know about, I look it up, or ask around.

...

I'll take a shower, and give the basement another go. If he's there, I'll ask. If not, I guess I'll have to wait for another salad bowl moment then.