I want to tell you a story. If you don’t want to believe it, don’t, but as much as it pains me to write it, it awes me every time to have this beautiful person happen to me. I felt like I was in a movie or maybe it was a cruel prank by faith. I was just waiting for the Bollywood cameras to enter.
This is a story of a foreign boy who met a local girl outside a subway station.
Toronto, Canada Fall 2014
They held hands from when the leaves started falling till the first snow reached the ground – from his birthday to hers. She showed him her world and he welcomed her to stay for breakfast.
She took the 501 on Dundas to sit on his suitcase as he packed for his local and Facetimed him good-bye at the airport. They did not exchange numbers because they knew the connection would be weak waters away.
Soon, he adjusted to his old life and she searched for him in 501s, yellow-green soccer matches, and beautiful accents. At the brink of the rooting of the first flower, she found an internship, but this time in her foreign and his local. She wished she had had the courage to ask for his number and to tell him that stars sometimes do cross twice.
One day, after crashing on the couch, she woke up to a message of “Do you remember me?” – he had found her. She sent him her soon to be address right before she could conjure a ‘hey’. In a foreign so big, she was soon to be only a 2-hour drive from his local.
Rio De Janeiro, Brazil, Summer 2015
But she wanted more. She wanted to conquer a metropolitan with him. At her command, he told her he would land there as she packed her bags and he unpacked his. They met outside another metro station. It was like she never sat on his suitcase or Facetimed him good-bye from the airport. They were both locals in this foreign for ten minutes they never thought would happen.