Dear Stanger

Dear Stranger, are you doing well? Does your mind treat your heart like a chew toy? Mine does, but don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt; not anymore. Dear Stranger, is your little brother staying out of trouble? You always did worry about him.

Dear Stranger, did you concentrate on my voice as I did on yours? I was remembering every pause, every stutter, and every sentence. The way your breath became uneasy when I asked how your day was going or the way your body just wanted to break down. It was your way of telling me how your day was going without actually needing to tell me.

I remember. I remember how you used to sit up late at night, not talking, not dreaming; just focusing on my loud breathing and staring at the dimly lit ceiling, knowing that I was trying to fall asleep.

I remember the day you told me we were going on an adventure. You walked me down countless neighborhoods, pulling my arm so hard I thought it falling off may actually be possible. I didn’t mind. I didn’t tell you that your grip was too strong or that I was too tired for having, as you said, an adventure. I just remember how happy you were.

By the time we arrived at the place you had been searching for, the sun was beginning to set low and I had memorized every different crack on the sidewalks.

This is it; we made it.

Dear Stranger, could you tell how unglued I was? Could you understand my uttermost confusion when I realized that we were in the middle of nowhere?

Again, I didn’t mind.

I remember you grinning so widely that I am sure your cheeks were beginning to hurt. I asked you what the adventure was and you replied with the most promising answer anyone could ever withhold.

You just said, “Here. This place right here is the start to our adventure,” as you pointed to our surroundings of nothing.

Again, I was confused, but you told me to stop thinking. Itried. I tried so hard to understand, only focusing on ways your brain works. You started running. I laughed because your foot got caught up in a hole, causing you to fall right on an anthill. I helped you up and you noticed the sense of entertainment I felt, the feeling of life coursing through my veins.

You strived for it.

We found an old set of railroad tracks. They were rusty and dirty, not the most promising playground, if you ask me. That didn’t stop us from climbing to the very top of those lifeless trains.

I remember how alive we felt, so full of spirit. I focused on every step we took. I was grasping tightly onto the metal railings, scared of losing grip and falling.

I remember looking at your hands resting firmly on the train once we reached the roof. Seeing your white knuckles shaking gave me confirmation that this whole situation was just as crazy and strange to you as it was to me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in--it was bitter, but in a good way. I could smell old traces of steam, oil, and smoke.

My eyes were still shut, focusing on how the wind was pushing against my body. I almost forgot that you were sitting a couple inches away from me. I opened my eyes and you were counting the freckles on my shoulders, your finger being placed on my arm every second, finding a different spot.

So gentle and then I had this pounding in my heart that something was wrong. Something awful happened to you today. That is why we were here, away from everyone else. I didn’t ask you, I didn’t have to; I just knew.

Then I opened my mouth to ask you if this was our adventure. You looked at me and turned your head to the side, shocked that I still didn't catch on to what this was. You whispered so quietly that I had to read your lips. Slowly you told me that this was the beginning of our infinity together. You told me that no matter what happens, we would always come back to each other and remember this place. This old, dirty place that now held so much meaning to me in the span of ten minutes. I was going to reply when you hushed me.

For a split second, I was upset that you wouldn’t even give me the chance to say anything. Then I heard it too. Someone was here, watching us. Someone knew that we were here. In seconds, we jumped to the ground, running back to the sidewalk we came from, having heard the voice of a man telling us to get lost.

I was so scared; breathing so fast that I was sure my heart was going to explode. What if he knew us? He could turn us in and I would for sure be toast. But you? You were laughing, laughing the hardest I’ve ever seen you laugh, feeling your stomach turn into mush and your chest rising and falling in an unorganized way. This was, in fact, the beginning of our friendship, but where did we end? Why were you gone as fast as you came? You left and I was angry. Seeing you made me angry. Watching you with your new friends made me angry. They’re not your friends; I’m your friend.

Why did you do this? You told me that day at the railroad tracks that we would always come back to one another. Do you remember this day? You have made it clear of who you are to me and who I am to you. Strangers.

So dear Stranger, was it worth it? Dear Stranger, I hope you are doing well.