Hey there!
You were walking far from where I was sitting. I saw you strolling near the food truck, donned in a white t-shirt paired with black pants. I wish I could express to you how beautiful your long hair looked. You looked good. Well, really good.
You were patiently waiting in line to order your tacos. I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on you, hoping for a glance in return and pondering the chances of striking up a conversation. After placing your order, I watched you walk back to your car. My eyes longed for more of your presence or even a chance to talk to you. As you left, I thought to myself, “Bummer.” However, out of the blue, you returned, this time with a white water bottle in hand. It brought me immense joy to see you come back.
With your taco in hand, you sought out a place to sit, and my heart raced as you chose the table next to mine.
I looked back, and there you were, delightfully savoring your taco alone. I couldn’t resist; I had to get up and talk to you. As much as I hesitated not to disturb your taco time, I knew I had to take the chance. My heartbeat raced again, and I found myself questioning whether I should approach you!
I came to the food trucks for my design thinking class, working on a project researching different taco places around Austin. Accompanied by my classmates, I delved into the intricacies of tortilla-making and food truck operations, learning the fascinating process of crafting a taco. For the project, I had to interview my university peers.
Though I doubted you were a university student, I still wanted to talk to you. Could the interview be the reason for our encounter? Nervously, I approached your table without much thought.
I looked at you nervously, speaking so fast that I couldn’t even hear myself, wondering what you must be thinking. I opened my notes, realizing I didn’t know what to ask. How could I convey that the interview was just an excuse to speak with you?
You shared your love for brisket tacos, a taste I hadn’t experienced. I asked for other recommendations, and you mentioned “Nixta tacos.”
How could I have asked you to go to Nixta tacos? Despite my inner turmoil, I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I kept bombarding you with questions as my heart kept beating rapidly. Feeling guilty for interrupting your dinner with your tacos, I suggested you continue eating. Your willingness to wait charmed me. I saw your smile, then your eyes. I got scared again and nervously continued with questions.
I didn’t know what was going on in my head; I even forgot to ask your name at the beginning. But I’m glad I asked at the end of our conversation.
I wanted to talk to you more, to learn about your life, where you’re from, and how you ended up at the food truck. I wanted to hear your story.
I wanted to talk to you calmly and with patience. You might think I’m crazy, and perhaps I am, but I wanted to tell you that this was not an interview but rather an opportunity to speak with you. Hopefully, next time, it won’t be through an interview but rather I can speak to you freely.
As I came home, I kept thinking about how we met. It felt like I left something behind, as if something was incomplete or missing. The truth is, I didn’t want to interview you; I just wanted to tell you how I found you charming. I wanted a reason to speak with you and all that came in my mind during the time was the interview.
I think in life we have many encounters with people. Some we see only once, and others we cross paths very often. So, I hope to see you again. I don’t know your story or if you have a significant other or how you’d describe how we met. Knowing nothing about you, I want to meet you again and get to know you: the real you. Perhaps you’ll share the story behind your long hair or about how you ended up in Austin. I’d hope you have questions for me about then.
Perhaps I’ll go back to that taco place, and maybe one day you’ll show up. Or maybe I’ll never get to tell you this story. But I hope you do get to read this article, and it brings a smile to your face. Trust me; you look even more amazing when you smile, and I’d love it even more if I can be the reason.
I was thinking how you might think of me. I saw you get back to your tacos as I was leaving, hoping you would have questions for me. Perhaps I was in a rush. But I do wonder if we’ll ever meet again and if we can try that Nixta tacos together.
So tell me, would you taco(talk) to me?
I wonder what you thought about me. Maybe just a little crazy girl who asked you questions about tacos, or maybe a girl who wanted to interview you. I wonder if you ever replay our encounter.
Tell me, if you were to write about me, how would you tell the story?