You're the meaning to my life

Julie Clark wrote. She scribbled down every idea and theory she had during the day then spent the rest of her night developing upon her ideas. She was bright. She had no time for love or dates or relationships, she simply wrote. That was that.

Harry Edwards lived. He laughed and ran and bumped into people on the streets and laughed some more. He had humour in his bones and
laughter in his heart. He had no time to settle down for work, or be serious, or grow up. He was young at heart. That was that.

Both lived their own separate lives until one winter day Harry and Julie stumbled into one another in the streets and met again with a napkin on a bar and a thick black notebook.