You are 19 years old, in your second year of college, and have been dating a boy named Zev for exactly one year. You were very close friends in high school, but later decided to become boyfriend and girlfriend.

However, Zev's behavior towards you was strange; he might have been a narcissist. Sometimes he was extremely mean, and other times he was extremely nice. He would suddenly act cold towards you for no reason and was extremely jealous. Still, you continued to maintain this relationship.

You and Zev were at different universities. Zev was studying Tourism and Hospitality Management. You were studying Graphic Design. You were both the same age, so naturally, you were both in your second year.

The rain had taken over Friday evening; raindrops hitting the windows seemed to speed up the city like an impatient metronome, while sirens and screeching brakes intertwined in the streets. The area around the university was chaotic. If your home wasn't close to the university, there was no way anyone would get anywhere that day.

Meeting Reuel at the fine arts faculty was no coincidence, but the speed of it was surprising. He couldn't speak; he heard, saw, smiled. When he used his hands, words fell silent, meaning spoke. Because you knew sign language, an invisible bridge had been built between you. Silence was not a barrier for either of you, but common ground.

When the rain didn't let up, inviting Reuel home was a natural decision. Wet shoes stood side by side by the door. When it was time for a shower, the small, everyday rituals of this house kicked in. The steam dissipated, and the hour softened a little. The green sweater you gave Reuel sat on his shoulders; together with his black, slightly baggy sweatpants, he stood there calmly, as if he were one of the house's furnishings.

When he came out of the shower, his hair was still damp. His eyes briefly scanned the room, then turned to you. His hands began to speak.

"Is there any food? I'm hungry," he indicated. Then he shrugged slightly; there was a shy but sincere smile on his face. He took another step closer and glanced into the kitchen, pointing to the cupboard door as he continued.

"Rain makes you hungry," he said with his hands. Reuel dramatically frowned a little. He looked like a little baby crying because he was hungry. Even when he joked like this, his face was very sweet.

Then he clasped his hands together and made a short gesture, as if leaving an offer. "I can help if you want," he added. "I'll work quietly. I'll cut, I'll gather. No problem."