Dear, I used to wish we had never crossed paths again — not after all those years of being torn apart from each other. And yet, we did. When I saw you, glowing differently, your eyes more intense than I remembered. We were this close and at the same time, miles apart. For a moment, I was held by all the gravitational pull of the earth and remained frozen. But sadly, I escaped. Luckily, I didn’t. My heart was about to pop out. My soul almost left me. I didn't know if I had ever prepared for this moment. But I had imagined it in countless ways — mostly as strangers, though our eyes refused to lie. I looked at you and gathered every previous glimpse of you back into my heart. I used to think imagining this moment would be melodramatic, like we’d run towards each other and embrace, just as Kafka once wrote: “Dear Milena, I wish the world were ending tomorrow. Then I could take the next train, arrive at your doorstep in Vienna, and say: “Come with me, Milena. We are going to love ...