CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO STRANGERS TO LOVERS: We were nine when she told me she hated noise. So I clapped my hands beside her ear just to see if she'd still talk to me. She didn't-not for three days. I lasted two before writing "I'm sorry" on a leaf and slipping it under her gate. She gave it back with red markings and corrections. "Wrong spelling of sorry. Learn." That was Lilliane. She grew up collecting pressed flowers in thick books. I grew up pressing buttons I wasn't supposed to. She memorized constellations. I memorized her favorite snacks. She read Jane Austen at ten. I thought "Pride and Prejudice" was a K-drama. We were different. Everyone said so. But she never pulled away when I walked beside her, never moved her chair when I sat too close, never erased the drawings I secretly added to her math notes.She'd just glance, sigh, then keep solving the equation. And I'd keep wondering if someday, she'd solve me too.

I'm scared of the sea. I can't help but think of the danger it brings. The width and depth seem forever. But I know that someday, I'm going to swallow all my fears and sail into that immense body of menace. Because I have to find him. I have to see him. I have words I haven't told him yet. There are things he needs to know and I don't care if it matters now or it never really mean anything at all. I just have to find him.