When we’re nineteen, we don’t think that the girl we kiss today might be the only one in the whole world who can reach the heart, warm it, and take it away—quietly, relentlessly. We walk away, staring past the horizon, without looking back, without doubting, certain that in the future we’ll be waiting for new victories and accomplishments, beautiful women and success. But that girl from yesterday—from that tiny, miserable town—doesn’t stop living in our hearts. And no matter how many years pass, nothing changes. She will be there. But it’s not my own anymore.