A boy and a girl met for a late movie. They were both fairly damaged goods. The girl talked about her sister, who was in a mental ward and constantly on medication. The boy told about his cousin who had tried to kill her own mother. Madness ran in both their families, and they were both rather socially inept.
The movie --- a quirky indie flick about familiar relations, leavened with slapstick --- was pretty good. The Texas air in October, nearing midnight, had a slight chill. They walked together around the modern, hipster shopping district near the theater for a bit. Then they went for a drink at a nearby bar where three members of the staff stopped by to greet (or hug hello, depending on gender) the boy. The boy was well-liked at the bar. The boy and girl talked with each other easily on a variety of topics, and found each other funny. The boy tried, and failed in his socially stunted, shy way to ask the girl if she wanted to go on an actual date instead of this ambiguous hanging out. The girl gave a mysterious, non-committal response that indicated neither the presence nor the lack of interest.
The boy went home feeling as if a connection had been missed, but decided that a lack of response was equivalent to a negative one. But then as he lay in bed, he received the first in a string of text messages from the girl. She wrote that she was sorry for not being more enthusiastic, and that she did have fun with him.
The boy was confused, but he supposed the girl was, too.