In 10th class I went to the same tuition academy every single evening just because she sat two rows ahead of me. I never said one word to her. Years later, I still can't hear a generator start without thinking of those evenings.
Back in 9th class I wrote her name on the last page of my Urdu notebook, then panicked and turned it into a drawing of a mango. That notebook is still in my cupboard. The mango is terrible.
Every morning I wait at the van stop five minutes longer than I need to. Same van, same seat, same headphones. One day I'll say salaam. Probably not tomorrow.