They met three times before they learned each other’s names.
   The first time, she dropped a book on the subway platform and he picked it up, apologized for stepping on her scarf, and left before the train arrived. 
   The second time, he sat two seats away from her at a wedding neither of them wanted to attend. They did not speak. 
   The third time, they reached for the same pen at a café and laughed, because by then it felt rude not to. Serendipity was not the meeting, It was the repetition.