We are standing at traffic lights, Victory and I. The town is no busier than usual and a man stands at the other side of the lights, idly waiting for the green man to make an appearance. He is scarcely a boy, no older than 20 years old I would guess, perhaps 21. I wait and absentmindedly observe the scene unfolding before me.

He is blond and average statured. Black coat, black jeans, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks like a James or a Patrick. He’s probably neither. There’s a small smile growing on his face. I wonder what he’s thinking of. I suspect he’s just heard good news, You’ve won the art competition, or maybe he just got lucky and won 20 euro on a scratch card. No, I decide. He must be heading to a coffee shop, there are a few littered around beyond the lights. There’s someone waiting on him, probably a friend with their own good news to share. He looks like the type of person who’s always on time. He’s going to meet an old friend who he hasn’t seen in a year. College and life itself got in the way. There’s a certain amount of nervousness brewing inside them both; it feels like decades have passed since their last meeting. It’ll dissolve the moment their eyes meet; it always does. Familiarity will wash over them both. Countless stories will be shared over coffee, both old and new, their lives meeting at the same intersection in that minuscule café around the corner. Nothing else matters any more. He has decided to try to make a difference in the world. The only problem is he doesn’t know how just yet. She’s the type of person who would know. They’ll be there till the coffee shop closes, chucked out into the dimmed street awash with heavy darkness. They’ve always been like this, the two of them. Some things never change.

My train of thought is disrupted. The traffic lights change. He crosses. We cross.

A tap on my arm accompanied by a smile and rushed syllables, “I love your coat.” I’m wearing my trench coat. A smile in return and a quiet, “Thank you.”

I hope his coffee was nice and that they existed in their own little world together if only for a few hours. I hope that they’ll figure out how to change the world together. Somehow. Someday. Maybe we’ll walk past each other at some point in the distant future, both too caught up in our own separate worlds to notice. I’ll make sure to wear my trench coat.

—By Elizabeth M., 17, Ireland