No matter what path he took, they all lead to her. He was never the type of man to go running into oncoming traffic. He'd never left work in the middle of the day. He hadn't once lost his composure.
She was a new kind of good. Like when a rose is perfectly preserved in ice. Or when the sun shines through a raindrop on a cold February morning.
A paper airplane twirls and dances in the breeze, followed by a new girl, to a man who has never experienced this before.
Keep me with you, my dear, for you shall never know of a greater understanding than that of this arrangement.
Keep me in your pocket as you sail through the air, paper wings guiding you back home. Back to that alleyway in Northern Washington.