i didn’t move to l.a. to start over. not really. i moved because i needed somewhere to disappear. in the span of one month, i lost my job, my relationship, and my dog — the three things that gave my life any kind of shape. it felt like the universe flipped a switch and said, “let’s see what happens when we take everything.” so i packed up what was left of me and drove west with no plan, just the hope that something — anything — would feel like mine again.

i wasn’t looking for him. i was barely even looking up. i met drew in the most unromantic way possible: spilled coffee. his. on me. outside a bookstore i had wandered into because it looked warm and kind. and yet, somehow, he laughed. not at me. but like it was a moment worth laughing through.

he apologized three times. bought me a new coffee. and then asked if i wanted to go inside with him anyway.

i don’t know why i said yes. i wasn’t saying yes to much at that point. but something about him felt soft in the way the world had recently gone sharp. like maybe, just maybe, i wouldn’t have to brace myself so hard if he was near.

we didn’t fall fast. we didn’t fall loud. it was slow mornings and long walks through neighborhoods neither of us lived in. it was laughing in diners at 1am because the waitress gave him a pink straw and he used it like it was elegant. it was finding each other’s silences and not needing to fill them. it was gentle. so, so gentle.

he never asked about the breakup. or the job. or the dog. not at first. he waited. let me come to those stories when i was ready. and when i did, he didn’t offer advice or try to fix anything. he just listened. nodded. kept his hand over mine on the table and let the quiet mean “i’m here.”

there was one night we sat in my car for two hours after getting milkshakes. i told him i didn’t feel like myself anymore. that i didn’t even know who that was. and he looked at me — like really looked — and said, “maybe this is her. maybe you’re just meeting her now.” i don’t think he knows how much that cracked something open in me.

for the first time in months, i started taking care of things again. little things. making my bed. walking to the corner store just to pick out snacks. smiling at people in line. and somehow, the world didn’t feel so cruel. it felt… soft around the edges again. like maybe it could hold me, instead of push me.

i didn’t post him. not for months. not because i was hiding him — but because for once, something felt too good to share. he felt like peace. like the calm after a storm. like the air right after it rains, when everything smells like beginning again.

he came into my life when everything else was falling apart. and somehow, he helped me build something new. not out of what was broken. but out of what was real. and this time, i think it might be mine.

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