Puffs of smoke, wafts of odd chemical scents. Vapors that appeared and dissipated in a flash. The sound of bubbling and gurgling filling the room. A pinch of this, a dash of that.

A knock disrupts my puttering. Irritated, I stride quickly to the door, pulling the door back abruptly.

“Yes?”

“Doctor Zaronto? I’m Cheryl, here from the school newspaper.”

I stare blankly at the young redhead, waiting for her to go on.

“We had an appointment? I confirmed it with you yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, right. You’re early though, and unfortunately I can’t accommodate you until our appointment at-“ I looked at the clock. How was it already noon? When was the last time I had looked up?

Sheepishly, I turn back to the girl. She arched a neat eyebrow at me, lightly sweeping a manicured hand towards my lab. “Shall we?”

Stepping aside to let her through, I smelt a faint waft of pear and jasmine from her hair as she passes by. The enchanting smell is disconcerting, so unlike the usual scents of chemicals or flames I find myself surrounded by typically.

Hastening around, I clear a space for her on a lab stool, throwing the papers and pens that were housed on it atop my desk. She takes it, settling herself atop it easily, pulling out a notebook from a worn leather passenger bag she wore around her shoulders. Next to her easy grace, I feel like a bull in a china shop, unsure of what to do with my hands, where to look.

I settle behind my overcluttered desk, barely able to see her over the pile of junk that’s accumulated atop it in the past months. Cheryl doesn’t seem to notice my frantic energy; when she’s assembled her materials she turns and pins me with a cool look, pen in hand.

“Alright Doctor, are you ready to begin?”

Nodding, I try to discretely wipe my clammy palms on my pants, but Cheryl’s eyes catch and track the movement. Her face softens slightly.

“You really don’t have anything to be worried about; it’ll be a few questions, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She was right; I had defended two different theses for my dual PhD’s. I could handle an interview with an attractive woman for half an hour.

“Let’s start with your educational history. You completed your undergraduate degree at Berkeley?”

The hour passed swiftly, Cheryl asking probing yet insightful questions, not the usual simpering nonsense I was used to from reporters. At one point, a beaker behind her let out a shrill whistle, its contents spilling out of it. Cheryl remained unfazed, asking if I needed to clean it up before continuing, and that was that.

When she stood up to leave, bag in hand, I found myself wondering if I were ever going to see her again. I followed her to the door, nervously wringing my hands, contemplating a loneliness that had never before bothered me.

“Thank you again for your cooperation today, it was just what I needed. You should see it in the next issue.” She dug around in a side pocket of her bag, extracting a white business card with dainty lettering on it. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

I stared down at the tiny words as Cheryl headed down the hallway. For a fraction of a moment I hesitated-

“Cheryl? Cheryl!” Panting wildly, I skidded around a corner in the parking lot, catching up to her just as she reached her car.

She looked confused as she caught sight of me, leaning with my hands on my knees, breathing deeply from my sprint out here. It had been quite a long time since I had exercised, I realized.

“Do you. Want. To get dinner. With. Me?” The words wheezed out of me, nothing of the suaveness I had been practicing on the way down being apparent.

But Cheryl’s mouth curls up into a slow smile, like she was expecting me. “I would love to. “