Six days. That’s all it’s been. But somehow you’ve threaded yourself through the quiet corners of my day, the pauses, the in-betweens, the moments I didn’t know were waiting for you. There’s a sweetness to this timing, like the universe is whispering, “look closer, this one matters.” And now we’re two sunrises away, from standing in the same air, no screens, no lag, just you, your voice, your eyes meeting mine, without the safety of distance. It’s strange how certain things feel right, before they even fully start. How six days can undo walls that took years to build. How someone can walk in so gently, yet rearrange the whole room of your heart. I’m not calling it love, not yet, not this soon, but there’s a pull here, steady and honest, the kind you feel in your chest before you dare to name it. And when I meet you, day after tomorrow, I think something quiet inside me is finally going to click into place.