In the end.

There is nothing to write. It wasn't my ending.

In the beginning...

Once, I was asked to find the story I wrote of how we met.

I never sent a link to the story.

Not because I'm an asshole, but because I never wrote it down. There were not words to describe it then, to understand that profound thing that had just happened to me, that would happen, the consequences of all of that.

The story of how we met was in my memories and the memories I built over the days and years. It reached epic proportions. It was a journey story.

The story of how we met was too important for me to try to capture it in words.

So I never wrote it down.