Morgan Lain

This is a really short story about a girl I met who really impressed me.

          We met at the bookstore; I was buying coffee, and she was talking to the cashier about machines and people.  We debated whether machines have free-will or not.
           She doesn't believe machines have free-will or a soul, but she took mine into her haezel eyes.  She said she'd never met anyone who explained the world the way I do; she said I was her reflection, but I could only sit dumbly by, and watch her soft lips move.
           She told me her name; it was Morgan Lain... something.  I didn't ask for a last name, but I got a phone number.  Perhaps, I shouldn't call.  She has a boyfriend after all.  In an hour and a half a pro-green hippie wrecked my plans for life, then left me wondering what to do.