I see him and immediately I know. It’s not the usual things that might catch someone’s eye that spark my interest. No, it is the elbow patches on his blazer and that he opens his car door with a key that make me take notice. I have not seen anyone unlock a car door with a key for such a long time that I am intrigued. I watch as he gets into his car and absentmindedly buckles his seatbelt, and I put down my egg and cress sandwich, start my engine, and follow.

He drives the way I thought he would – badly – and I already know I like him. Where are we going? I stay behind, not worried about being spotted. I am just a stranger to him for now. Our cars speed along the grid roads and swerve around the roundabouts, faster, then slower. He indicates left and I copy. Our cars turn off the main road and into the Open University. I raise an eyebrow. This will be interesting.

He parks haphazardly, and I take the space opposite. He walks slowly, his hands shoved in his pockets, deep in thought. I follow, under the covered walkway. He does not know I am behind him.

He stops at a building, fumbles in his pockets until he finds a lanyard, holds it to a sensor, and the door swings open. It closes behind him before I have time to dart inside. I watch through the glass as he disappears up a staircase, then I rush over and read the building name; Robert Hooke: School of Physical Sciences.

*

He is an astrophysicist, giving his inaugural lecture tonight. I put on my best clothes and polish my shoes. I sit towards the back of the auditorium, letting the unfamiliar language flow over me. He performs well and I feel proud.

Afterwards, I mingle, eating prawn sandwiches and sipping orange juice, watching an awestruck trail of students follow him, asking him questions, listening to his answers.

I begin to visit the university often. The lights in the library switch on for me as I walk into the darker corners, searching for books about planets, distant galaxies, forgotten stars. I rest in the café, gulping coffee, my head weary with the information I am absorbing. Eventually our paths cross and we talk. He is interested in the book I am reading, and I pretend I understand.

We start meeting, more and more and more. We stay together into the early hours, speaking the language of the universe, all the atoms and entities. I have learnt a lot in a short space of time. I am almost believable.

And then something changes. My interest wanes, as it always does eventually, and it is time to go. I dress and walk outside, not looking up at the sky. The planets are sleeping; they are of no interest to me now.

As dawn breaks, I get into my car and drive to the supermarket carpark.