A Familiar Stranger by Louann Carrol

​I met him on an ordinary afternoon. The kind of day that should have gone unnoticed. Yet, the moment my eyes met his, something stirred. It wasn’t dramatic, not the thunderbolt people write about. It was quieter, deeper, like a memory surfacing from a place I didn’t know existed, and it consumed every part of me.

I passed him by and kept walking, my breath catching for at least another mile. My mind was lost in thoughts of him. He was somewhere behind me, and I hadn’t done anything to further the connection. Should I go back? Would I know if he felt the same? No, of course not, I told myself firmly. That's silly. Imaginative. Yet, the stranger remained in my thoughts.

I didn't imagine his smile, and it wasn't because he was handsome, though he was. As silly as it sounded, I knew him intimately and had known him deeply for ages. Perhaps for eons.

It wasn’t the same feeling I got around a coworker, a friend, or even a boyfriend. I knew this stranger as well as I knew my own heart. I could feel his thoughts in my head; I knew his hands all the way down to the scar from a skin cancer surgery. I knew him.

By the time I got home, I was terrified. I paced my bedroom, down the hall, into the kitchen, my heart pounding with every step. This wasn’t like me. I am calm and levelheaded; I plan everything, and I never give in to reckless impulses. Not ever. A restless night followed me into the morning. Should I go on my morning walk? Will he think I'm stalking him? 

Arguing with myself, I let my practical side take over and put on my tennis shoes. Taking a deep breath to calm my nervous stomach, I headed out of my apartment toward the park. Before I had a chance to think, he was there. Leaning against a stop sign, as if waiting for me. He smiled, and I felt my breath catch again. I kept my pace steady and approached him.

​"Jeanine," I said, extending my hand. "And you are?"

“David."

Our flesh collided, universes were born, Novas appeared. I knew then and there he felt it too. He was waiting for me; I had no doubt. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. Something shifted in the air. I felt a hum that sprang from me into him, carrying stories that stretched back over a thousand years. We talked for a few minutes, shy and hesitant. I wasn't sure what to say or how to handle the situation. The conversation lasted a lifetime. Finally, we parted.

As I walked away, I pressed my hand to my chest, confused by the ache blooming there. I know him, I thought again. The idea made no sense, but it felt truer than anything I'd ever believed. The world had taught me caution: judge quickly, assume the worst before daring to hope. Instead, I built a story around him, full of assumptions, fears, and others’ opinions. I convinced myself he wasn’t who my heart insisted he was.

The next day, we met again. By then, I'd called every friend I had, and I listened to their advice. I paid careful attention to David's words. He said simple things, but I heard complex meanings. He showed kindness, but I looked for hidden motives. His sincerity? I called it charm. I started seeing him through the lens the world had handed me, not the one my soul recognized.

What could have been a beautiful love story turned into chaos and doubt. I knew he felt the connection too, and that unsettled both of us in ways we couldn’t explain.

We drifted in and out of each other's lives, like two stars in the same orbit. Never quite colliding. Years went by. Every person or potential partner I dated ever lived up to the David in my heart. He was always there, quietly present. No one matched the memory I carried, and eventually, I stopped dating altogether. No one made me smile as he had. No one made me laugh so freely.  

I suffer from a crippling shyness. I bush. I stammer. I bail quickly when I am somewhere uncomfortable. Because these feelings were new to me, I tried to build a life without him. I tried to create something real. But every relationship felt like wearing someone else’s coat. It was close, but never truly comfortable. No one matched the memory of someone I’d never been with.

Yet, time kept bringing him back. It wasn’t regular or predictable. Still, it was enough that we couldn’t pretend the connection had faded. Every few months, I would see him. An unexpected message, a chance encounter, a shared event, a friend's barbecue.

"David," I said. "How have you been?"

"Good," he replied, with a mouthful of hamburger. He blushed.

The electricity was still there. I blushed back. He stammered, and I hesitated. It was the same ancient recognition. And in that moment, something shifted. I went home that night wondering: Am I running from something I am meant to face? Am I wrong about him? What if my heart has been right all along? Why am I so afraid?

I realized that living in silence hurt more than speaking up.

So, I reached out. I didn’t make a grand declaration. I just faced it honestly. I ignored the warnings of the world and my own uncertainties. I listened to the part of me that recognized him. The part that knew him before I understood why.

Suddenly, everything made sense: the familiarity, the longing, why no one else ever measured up, and why my heart whispered his name even when my mind refused to hear it. I realized I was afraid of what he represented. A love too big, too deep, too destined to be controlled.

That kind of love takes courage.

Another barbecue, two glasses of wine, and he stopped by to say hello. We stood in the garden, beside my best friend’s rosebushes, my favorite spot.

"How are you?" he asked.

I told him the truth. I told him I had felt a connection from the start, that I knew him before I knew him. I wasn’t afraid of him, but of how he made me feel.

For the first time, I moved closer to him. He didn't speak at first, just stepped nearer, giving me a moment to change my mind. When he touched my hand, just a gentle brush, a door unlocked. A story resumed, two halves joining again. No fireworks. No dramatic speeches. Just a quiet, overwhelming certainty.

We chose each other. Not because we were perfect, not because fate forced us, but because we finally accepted the truth our hearts had known all along. And once we did, everything else fell into place almost effortlessly.

Love no longer felt like a risk.

​His sigh answered mine as he enveloped me in a gentle hug. We didn’t say a word, but at last we were at peace, and at home in each other's arms.