Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

"Penny for your thoughts?", she asked, brushing at an errant strand of hair.
"I was wondering what you're doing here" , I said half-honestly.
[...]
She stopped about a dozen feet from me. "Have you figured it out yet?", she asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Why I'm here." She smiled gently. "I've been wondering the same thing for most of my life, you see. I thought if you had any ideas...", she gave me a wry, hopeful smile.
I shook my head [...]
"All I've been able to guess is that you're going somewhere."
She nodded seriously. "That's as much as I've guessed too."
She paused to look at the circle the horizon made around us. The wind caught her hair and she brushed it back again. "Do you happen to know where I'm going?"
[...] "Dont' you know?"
"I have suspicions." [...] "But I've been wrong before."
A silence settled over our conversation. [...] Suddenly she dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at me.
"Where are you going?"
"The University."
She arched an eyebrow, looking ten years older. "So certain." She smiled and was suddenly young again. "How does it feel to know where you are going?"

[The Name Of The Wind, Patrick Rothfuss]