Today I met a stranger in a park. She was more than I expected, outgoing, striking and warm. We had conversed over email throughout the week and she had opened up almost immediately about her pain, her heartache, her attempted suicide. We embraced as old friends and wandered the paths of Regent’s Park, carving out swoops and loops in the spring breeze. Sitting on the grass below a busy flight path, we talked about her need to run, to pound the pavement and beyond, we talked about her imminent move to Vietnam before parting ways never to speak again. Sometimes I picture her in the sun among the trees and mountains and I hope she isn’t miserable. I met a stranger, and I miss her.