He can sit across from me without speaking, make eye contact without escaping from the moment, connect without wandering away from me. Somehow, in the perfect symmetry of our lives, we’ve touched at the center of our complex. Our core being joined by the untouchable, unimaginable force of the world, of this illusion called fate. The dwindling of any light outside of ourselves, forces us to focus in on what might be our ultimate demise, but releasing ourselves to the potential of a coincidence. From a drop wrinkles a wave, floating above the expectation and into what will be our reality, the singular, undeniable, shocking reality of a life united by a simple question of accompaniment. I give into this, whatever “this” may be, because for the second that I may lock eyes with him, the man sitting across from me in a somehow perfect quiet, life seems as if it’s in order. This was not an act of free will, but the universe’s joke on two individuals perfectly suited for loneliness until their spheres collided, creating an implosion of darkness and emanating a brilliance of immeasurable quality. All of this is done without the sound of action.