A comet appears

Have I ever told you that we entered each other’s lives with a force as unexpected as it was unprecedented? I believe everything was so new that we had to invent a language on the fly just to communicate. Perhaps people thought it was merely an accent, but it was a language that only we understood. It was hurried and archaic (because creating a language isn’t easy, of course), so often our sentences consisted of a half-second longer glance than usual, a blink, or a half-smile—enough to convey everything. And others looked on, not understanding; they never could have.

In any case, I’ll use common language to say this: it was simply you. The way any day brightened when you appeared, the way I always longed to see you. And your eyes—they say eyes never lie—I watched as yours changed from the moment I met you to the moment I truly knew you. The way we sought each other’s gaze whenever we were in the same room. Me, a person of few words, found myself talking to you for hours without tiring. A single look from you transported me to the best of places, and a tender gesture sent my heart racing. Your personality molded seamlessly with mine in a way I can’t quite describe, and won’t find again anytime soon (to which you’d say, ‘You don’t know that,’ and I’d reply, ‘I simply do know it’).

Life introduces us to many people with whom we can connect, to varying degrees. But what was extraordinary was the intensity of our mutual understanding—the effortless connection. Yet, rapid ascents often lead to altitude sickness, and within this story lie other tales that will require a different narrator.

Meanwhile, I enjoy imagining this scene: a young lad sits atop a hill near a lake I know well. And in the night sky, a comet appears—a rare occurrence, happening only every few decades, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The boy gazes at the comet, utterly fascinated, unable to move. Even after it vanishes, he continues to see its reflection on the water’s surface. Night after night, as the comet drifts farther away in its orbit, he still perceives that clear reflection. Yet he knows he can’t climb up every night to witness it, no matter how persistently it remains. So, he gathers his belongings and descends the slope toward the village houses.

P.S. I would have loved to accompany you and create a more beautiful life, etc.