elusive way that you either had with someone or you could never quite findthat pervasive shorthand in which a look could tell us what the other person needed: Time to leave the party; Time to reach for me; Time to give me room to breathe. It was a little bit of all of that and something far bigger than all of that. How do you explain it when you find in someone what youve been waiting for your whole life? Do you call it fate? It feels lazy to call it fate. Its more like finding your way homewhere home is a place you secretly hoped for, a place you imagined, but where youd never before been. Home. When you werent sure youd ever get to have one. Thats what he was to me. Thats who he was.

The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave