And sometimes, it just happens.

The fresh air of October was blowing in the trees that I could see from the balcony of my student apartment. A new life was beginning for me: a new city, a new school, and obviously new people. I did not know many people in that place, but I had all my time to do so.
One of my friends told me to download one of those famous dating apps called "Happn". To kill two birds with one stone, I was killing the time and meeting people at the same time (even if I never truly believed that you could find someone to talk to in real life thanks to an application).

Some days of scrolling and swapping later, I thought of uninstalling the app, the height of the will to know new people is that there are sometimes too many people waiting for an answer from you. And from the very beginning, I had noticed a little face in the middle of hundreds. A face that – I did not know why – I wanted to keep in my notifications. A face I wanted to keep an eye on. I was losing that face, drowning into the flood of the notifications. My decision was made.

"Hey, I am deleting the app, see you on Instagram?" I asked, hopefully waiting for a positive answer.
"Oh sure, here's my account." He wrote, giving me his username.

As soon as I had deleted "Happn", Instagram notifications came on my screen. It was him. Suddenly, it was like I forgot the other new people. Some discussions later, the very common "hobby question". When I told him I was writing sometimes, he gave me a challenge: writing a short story with 3 key facts he would choose himself.
Challenge accepted.
And then here I was, writing the story of Lucy, of her father that could not sleep anymore even if he would take his medicines properly, and the murder of Kennedy. I felt anxious when my finger pressed "enter". The file was sent and somehow, the man behind "the face" was about to enter in my personal space. What was more private than a writing work? Especially when it is made-to-measure and when the writers give the readers such a significance.
Sometimes you are doing things, without any goal, or without knowing them yet. But in a way, the mechanical font was already typing our story on the ribbon paper coiled on the cylinder of a typewriter.

"Can I give you 3 other key facts for another story" He asked
"Yes you can" I answered.
"Well firstly, there would be a man, named Victor, then a woman named Maria, and finally the fact that they would go on a date tomorrow night."
I slightly remember my name and realized that the story he was talking about was about us.

In the wake of, I was excited to meet him. I was not anxious or afraid but curious about seeing his face in real life. When evening came, I hesitated for a long time on my outfit and make up, I mean, Victor invited me to diner, it was no small achievement! I hade decided to wear a deep blue jumpsuit with low doc martens. I had to take the bus for twenty minutes before arriving to the biggest food street of the city. Victor had reserved for two in a family café, doing all sorts of toasts. After several looks in the street, I recognized him. We timidly said hello and came into the café. The place was small but warm, with family portraits on the walls, wooden tables and chairs and with checked tablecloth. Our table was in the shape of a little circle and was next to downstairs. It was going swimmingly since the moment we met, and even more now that we had aperitif. We started to talk about our respective lives, knowing each other on a deeper level. I was telling him how cack-handed I was, and he was telling me how patient he was. I noticed how funny he was, and he noticed how attentive I was. Little by little, our personalities were fading into each other, like the cold and the hot wind that are forming a tornado together; like two pieces of two different puzzle that were surprisingly but perfectly gathered. I was lost in my thoughts as I was driving into his green and brown eyes, and as a proof of my sincerity, in an uncontrolled movement, the empty glass on my right fell on the tiles floor into thousands of pieces.
I didn't know how to feel. Actually, I was very embarrassed, but he immediately reacted by a joke, picking the glass pieces at the same time. No one was annoyed by my unvoluntary gesture but me. I blushed so much that you could not make any difference with the red on my face and the red of the tablecloth.
He looked at me and red through my mind like you can read those words. He calmed and reassured me, made me feel comfortable- my clumsiness was all forgotten.
He made another joke and the dinner continued as well as it has started.

Howcould I have known that this simple day of October would mark the first day ofmore than three years of everyday laughs.