Nothing about their story was normal, so it shouldn't have surprised him that the next time he'd see her wasn't going to be in New York as a normal story would have it, but rather somewhere more exotic, mysterious, challenging, and enchanting

Once upon a time they probably passed each other one morning on the boardwalk. She ran in one direction as he biked in the other. They walked the same beaches, ate at the same restaurants, waited in the same lines for the same ice cream and rode the same amusements that one summer, only they didn’t know each other. At some point, he probably heard her laugh and the hint of matchless accent among warm, sunny bustle of chatter and ocean splashes.

I’ve never been one to want something enough to force destiny to bend to my will. I’ve never wanted to power through and command my way and fight tooth and nail until I got it. I’ve never cared to have it exactly ‘my way’ despite loving when Frank Sinatra sang it. Rather, I’ve always figured that God, destiny knew me better than I knew myself; that if I trusted The Author to lead me I’d be led right, that I didn’t need ‘my way’ if it meant perhaps there was a better way I didn’t see or even know I wanted. I’ve seen it proven time and time again, but…