We'd romped the same streets our whole lives, somehow sliding right past each other. Our families knew of each other. We'd been in the same kiddie volleyball league. Our houses are 1,056 feet apart. But it finally came together in a science room with a tantalizing view of the courtyard. Skeletons of various animals hanging from the ceiling and models of countless crustaceans alarmed class after class. Our teacher--we later concluded she was most likely a vampire judging by all the skeletons and constant chill in the room--was a bit too enthusiastic for the end of summer vacation. Our first assignment was to get a classmate's phone number to better "connect us as a classroom collective". Her words not mine. Little did I know what a dry texter that girl was. Our in-life conversations more than make up for it. I trip over my words and thoughts as I try to update her on each minute detail of my day, her listening attentively and quickly swooping in to provide her spiel when I've finally run out of breath. Those 1,056 feet expanded my life in a way I could've never imagined.