she stumbled onto his words quite by accident

he read her’s as a courtesy in return

what are the odds, the chance, in a million writers, from just as many walks of life, spread among the farthest reaches of the globe

he would see her writing

the words resonating in his mind

she is brilliant and he is floored

even more amazing in the impossibility of life

that she would not just see his words

but his heart

hidden behind a lock

draped in metaphorical need for a her he had given up hope on ever finding

she saw him

innocently she asked about his writing

reached out to him because she saw his desperate need as he painted with pain as a brush

forgoing her own needs again

she was concerned about a stranger

it began with a question

when does your book come out

who knows what could become of such a simple question