When I tell the story of how we met, you most likely won't believe me. 

You will probably go on and on about how I'm not that type of guy; the hopeless, pitiful romantic. 

Truth is you're right, I'm not him...at all. 

I grew up as an individualist, in every sense of the word. Never wanting to share myself for the benefit of others, whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally. 

But you...

I saw you and...

There was a feeling I couldn't define. Just rushing over me, drowning me all of a sudden.

A feeling so peculiar that when I felt it, I stormed out of that fish market. 

You might not remember that though. You don't recall our true, first encounter. 

Sometime in summer, in a popular fresh seafood market on the countryside, I'd gotten in line behind you to have a word with the cashier.

The young student barely looked capable of handling an elementary calculator, seeing as how he'd charged me ten dollars more than my conchs actually cost. 

I was waiting impatiently, huffing my breath and tapping my foot. You casted a glance toward my gray sneakers and I took a peek at your jawline. You smiled amusedly and returned your head forward. 

It was your turn at the register now. 

Slowly your hands pulled the groceries from your basket, and I emphasize slowly because I know you were doing that to taunt me. The curl of the corner of your lips were all the indication. 

In disbelief, I tried to grab your attention by stepping to the side of you.

You acknowledged that you did in fact see me by pivoting towards the register, completely blocking me from your view. 

I was boiling at this point.

You reached inside your purse to grab your wallet but stopped to ask the cashier to verify the price. 

It was when you spoke that I felt...that feeling.

The cashier smiled and repeated the amount and you handed him exact change. 

I returned to my spot behind you and watched your eyes soften. 

The feeling hit me again. Harder.

It was a feeling so pleasantly terrifying, I didn't know the proper way to react. 

I slammed my receipt on the cashier's counter, stole one last glance at the side of your face, then stormed out into the fresh air of the countryside. 

That's what that feeling was like. 

Seeing you.

Smelling fresh air after being suffocated for so long.

You probably thought that guy was horrendously impatient. You probably thought, "that man must really think the world revolves around him." 

And I'm sure you thought for so long now that our first encounter defined the events that transpired between us. 

But the truth is you don't know what ended us. You don't know that because you didn't know this.

Sometime in summer, where I met you, before you met me.