Assumption. A conclusion without proof. The raven-haired beauty replaces human interaction with fiction but does so in a bar. For the past six months, I have observed her reaction to the books she reads and the emotions that pass over her face as she dialogues with someone in her head. "You are reading the same book two Thursdays in a row." I deadpan, knowing taciturn is what she values. Hearing my voice, my nervousness was only masked by my deep, commanding tone. Aida's icy gray eyes meet mine. Assessing me while my heart was doing back flips, I deserved a whole sentence from her lips. I was not worthy of her This is like playing chess: a move and then an insurmountable amount of assessment and calculations. My move was to stay quiet while she continued to take my measure. I had taken down regimes and coups with my former team, but this one woman was immobilizing. Her monologue firmly in place, she begins: "You are weathered and unkempt like a homeless person. I hope you have other interests besides me on the remaining days of the week. Old City has interesting places and historical sites to occupy your time more productively." Her tone was firm but not unkind. "I appreciate the induction into great literature. The journey was worth it. Thank you." Check. On that note, I broke eye contact and began writing in my notebook. Homeless person?