We met in theater class back in 2018— just two kids trying to find their light on stage. You always read your lines with too much heart, and I was always pretending not to notice. But I did. After school, we’d find each other on the bus— back-row conversations that lingered long after the ride ended. We talked about dreams, music, the stuff we couldn’t say out loud in class. And those walks to the corner store? Just two friends, chasing tacos and time. Laughing with hot sauce on our hands, like the world wasn’t rushing past us. Then time did what it does—it pulled us apart. Different paths, missed calls, the quiet in-between. But in 2020, we found our way back. Older, softer, and somehow still familiar. What started in theater class and bloomed between bus rides and taco runs came full circle. We reconnected, and this time— we didn’t just talk. We fell. In love, in rhythm, in step. Like no time had passed at all. Funny how some stories don’t end— they just pause, waiting for the right scene to begin again.