Michael sits at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor. His fingers hover above the keys, frozen. He’s written and deleted the message at least six times. Typing a simple note shouldn’t be this hard. He can easily solve equations or predict probabilities, but this? This feels impossible.

He takes a deep breath and finally begins to type:

Hi. I, um, noticed you left your notebook in the library yesterday, and I wasn’t sure if you realized. It’s black with a little constellation doodle on the corner? If it’s yours, I left it with the front desk. Also, uh, I was wondering... have you ever thought about how constellations are kind of like graphs, with stars as vertices and connections as edges? Sorry, that’s random. Anyway, I hope this reaches you. – Michael

He pauses, reading over the message. Is it too weird? Maybe he should’ve kept it simple. But before he can talk himself out of it, he clicks send.

Immediately, panic hits. “What was that about graphs?” he groans, slamming his laptop shut. He paces the room, his mind spinning. “She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now...”

But deep down, he knows he’s done it. He’s sent it. Now, all he can do is wait.