The first thing she insisted on doing was paying for my frozen yogurt.

“You drove all this way,” she said. Even when I repeated that she was the one doing me a favor, she ignored me, barreling her way to the register, the teenager manning it happily going along with her demands. As I reluctantly ate my free green tea yogurt, she told me she hated driving, was terrible at it.

“A walking stereotype, I know,” she laughed. “Luckily I can walk here. Can’t go a mile in Cherry Hill without running into a froyo shop.”

Because I was raised by my grandfather, I really could not take her buying my froyo that easily, so I made a fuss that seemed to amuse her, until finally she said:

“Well, there’s a favor you can do for me, too. Maybe.”

But when I asked her what that might be, she changed the subject.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said, eyes bright. “Where do you go to school?”

“A small school outside of Philly,” I said, my usual vague answer. Not out of any sense of privacy this time, but because most people had never heard of my school.

“Oh.” Her eyes grew real wide. I thought she was about to guess the school. But instead, she said, “Swing state.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Are you registered to vote?”

I told her I had mailed in some form but didn’t know what became of it. Which made her face go through all these endearing contortions. Her inner debate was so clear to me: not wanting to come off as pushy but also not willing to relent on something this important.

“I’d encourage you to check,” she finally said in a forced light tone.

Amused, I promised her I would. Then I returned her question, asking where she went to school.

“A small school in New Jersey.” She winked and I laughed, even though it might’ve given away that I already knew she went to Princeton, a school everybody has heard of. Grandmother would like her, I thought.

I asked what she studied. Economics, I already knew. But she surprised me.

“I’m thinking of switching majors. I thought econ made sense and was practical and I’d be a big banker or something in New York. Then I changed my mind last semester.” When I asked her what she wanted to do now, she clammed up, her eyes wandering.

“I’m not sure how to explain it yet. But I went to Shanghai to get started.”

So I asked her what she was doing in Shanghai. Maybe I was too eager, but it was exciting to discover her in real life, this version of herself that did not exist on the internet.

“I wanted to . . .” She shifted again. There was a sudden shyness. “Actually, let me give this to you before I forget.”