I had a seed to a story in my head. That story grew, over the years, through the oddest moments. . . during a walk, during a car ride, in my dreams . . . and all of a sudden . . . you were there. When I first saw you, you were just a blurry image. I wasn’t even sure of why you were there. So I started writing about you and slowly, I uncovered your reasons. You had come into my story to tell your own story. Even though you are so different from me and we have no common ground, you chose me. There was a time when I wondered if, perhaps, you had come to me in error. Because the one thing I have been told, over and over again, is to “write what you know,” and I have never known anyone like you before. I worried that my readers would judge me for attempting to write about you. Perhaps they might feel that you should have come to them, after all, they may have more in common with you. But I accepted the challenge and decided to explore who you were. I discovered why you did the things you did and why you felt the feelings you felt. As I continued to write, I came to know you. And now you are clear and real in my story . . . and now I know you better than anyone else could possibly know you. You’ve been in my head and I’ve been in yours. You’ve been in my heart and I’ve been in yours. So it seems after all, you came to me, not by accident, but on purpose. My story needed you and now . . . you live in my story.