I stumbled and fell on a rainy Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, and you weren’t there to help me up and grab my cup up off the ground before your eyes met mine and we shared a moment that we’d always remember and eventually tell our children about because in that moment we both knew we were staring at our soul mate. No, you weren’t there. Instead I pulled myself back up and pulled my hair back out of my eyes and choked back the tears that threatened to escape, not because I was hurt or because I fell but because of the culmination of events that lead to a fall in the middle of the city on my way to an important meeting at a job that I hate with a boss that I hate and the only thing that could have made it better is you. I don’t know you yet. Or maybe I do. It’s February and you know what that means—I’m wearing a red top under my blazer and I even brought out my lacy red panties for special occasions but no one will see them, not on the 14th or anytime soon, but with the holiday looming so close I feel festive and optimistic, like maybe you’re waiting for me right around the corner and when I see you I’ll know and so will you. But for now, I brush off my skirt and continue down the sidewalk with no coffee, a bruised ankle, and a knockout smile because the corner approaches quickly and if I’m scowling or upset you may keep walking, no double take or second glance or hesitation, moving right on by the girl of your dreams and we’ll never know. It’s the never knowing that scares me the most.