A calmness in Mary Park's lobby settles awkwardly, emitting the feel of a quiet, cheap hotel just before midnight as the dormitories, once crowded with undergrad students during move-in day, are now silent as a library after hours.

Bulletin boards, still tacked with last week's lists of room assignments, face an elevator that spills out a group of rowdy students onto the lobby. Their spontaneous conversations alter the silence into laughter about the possibilities of an unrestricted Saturday evening.

"You know the rules, guys," one proclaims.

In unison, the group yells out, "There ARE NO RULES!"

However, on this night, another student decides to be the exception to the rule of youthful freedom. His shirt brandishes an out-of-date fashion statement printed on the front, "CHOOSE LIFE." The bold caps attract more attention then the moment he almost drops his clean laundry onto the lobby floor. His shirt with cut-off sleeves implies an unlikely crossover between a mid-80's music video and a trending rap song from Tupac Shakur.

El, his body language appearing bolder than from a decade ago, seems oblivious to the two girls laughing at his direction.

Unsure as to why his social status has yet to improve, he continues unembarrased with a basket of freshly dried clothes that emit a strong aroma of spring flowers as a result of an overuse of fabric softener.

The group whispers comments about El's noticeable smell of laundry and his eighties fashion. Together, they sing, "Wake me up before you GO GO! I'm not planning on going solo!"

A girl giggles, "Nowadays, even nerds can look buff."

Still unaware to the passive insults, El slows his walk down to half speed as his attention focuses toward the second phone booth from the left where, once again, the young Asian girl is seated behind the clear doors. She appears tenser than before. However, her ability to remain elegant in her state of anxiety triggers the song, "There She Goes," to re-play inside El's mind. Her fingers carelessly entangle around the phone cord as wrinkles of concern feverishly form around her forehead. In every odd moment, she exerts a soft giggle, but this time she withholds from concealing her smile behind her hand. On top of the phone, a cheap disposal lighter and a pack of cigarettes lay flat with an open cover that reveals more than half the contents missing from inside. For the past week, El has yet to know who she is, where she is from or where she is staying. His only knowledge of her is that she occupies the same booth at the same time of the day, everyday, since moving in.

Before the girl notices the weight of his stare, El casually returns to a normal walking pace.

Observing from behind a snack dispenser, Daniel, El's roommate, comes out from hiding, laughing as he catches up to him. "Hey, Wu El! You're doing laundry?!"

"It's EU El," he corrects, confused to the logic of the question regarding his laundry. "Of course I'm doing laundry. How else would one prepare for the coming school week?"

"There's plenty of time; it's Saturday."

"Yeah," El begins, "but if I don't wash today, then how do you think I will have time to iron tomorrow?"

"*Ai-yah, who irons clothes in college? Besides, on SATUR...," Daniel gives up mid-sentence as he notices El's puzzlement augmenting into an obvious confusion.

"Forget it," Daniel decides to not even try.

Keeping a curious gaze towards his roommate, Daniel breaks the silence as they continue down the empty halls of the all-boys floor with a bold observation.

"I saw you!" Daniel exclaims.

"Saw me? What are you talking about?"

"I saw you!" Daniel chuckles. "That girl in the booth! You were staring at her!"

"So?"

"I'm just relieved is all," Daniel snickers.

Tightly grasping the laundry basket in one hand, El unlocks their room with his free hand. He is thinking of a reply while trying not to drop his clean clothes a second time. "Relieved? About what?"

"Wo yi zhu dou zhi dao wo shi yi ge mei nan, bu guo xing hao ni mei you kan shang wo. Ni hai suan zheng chang," Daniel responds in Chinese Mandarin.

"What?"

Daniel shakes his head. His eyes stare becomes a tragic expression suitable for funerals. "Sorry, I forgot. Sadly, you do not speak Chinese."

"I grew up in Stockton...CALIFORNIA."

"Which is WHY I'm not surprised you don't speak Mandarin."

With one eyebrow raised, Daniel provides a concise translation. "Let me say, though I'm attractive, I'm relieved to know you find that girl more attractive than...myself."

Disgusted, El begins to fold his laundry using the same meticulous, rhythmic technique that produces surprisingly symmetrical results. After some thought, he glares back at Daniel, who is disappointedly shaking his head.

El replies back, "I don't get it."

Daniel attempts an explanation. "You, cutting off your shirt sleeves, and smelling like flowers doesn't give off a 'straight' impression, El."

El takes a longer pause. He has difficulty understanding the relationship between being, "straight" and his sense of fashion.

"At least you have good taste... in women," Daniel compliments, while thinking of other positive things to say.

Still ignoring Daniel, El continues folding his laundry as if with the urgency to pass a military inspection.

"You never been in a relationship before, have you?" Daniel boldly inquires.

Unsure if his roommate is leading him toward a punch line of a bad joke, El ignores him.

"C'mon, I'm serious, El. I'm six years older than anyone here. I'm more experienced in the art of dating."

"What're you suggesting?"

"Listen, El, before you go stalking girls again," Daniel snickers, "We're going to Chinatown together. I know this barber and where to eat the best dumplings in San Francisco."

"What are dumplings?"

"Ai-yah. Seriously? Do you even know how to use chopsticks?" Daniel questions, sounding more disappointed as the shortcomings of his roommate are slowly revealed with each passing minute of conversation.

El nods without confirming either a "yes,"or a "no." He nods because he is solely satisfied with the workmanship of his neatly folded laundry.

"Never mind," Daniel frowns as he searches for his car keys amongst the clutter on his desk. "Maybe, it's better you don't let anyone know your handicap with chopsticks. Presently, you're like last week's losing lottery ticket: you wouldn't stand a chance winning anything; let alone women."

El, a competitor, is visibly triggered.

"She's Asian," Daniel justifies. "Though you're Asian on the outside, on the inside you're a visitor from another planet."

A glow of praise emanates inside El's smile as he asks Daniel to validate an assumption he has held since childhood.
"You mean, like I'm from Krypton?"

Daniel strains a smile back to hide the disappointment he has with his new friend. He is careful to not damage the dormant potential he sees in him.

"What? Ai-yah, El. You're more like a fortune cookie than a superhero."