(Who trips over his cape)
He will tell you, very softly, that he felt something when he met you.
Not just anything.
Something rare. Electric. Almost unbearable.
He may not say βfate,β but it will hover in the room like incense.
And if you are not paying attention, you might mistake that feeling for substance.
You might think: Ah. Depth.
But depth is not measured in what someone feels. It is measured in what they do while feeling it.
