They had both gone their separate ways after university.  Four years of laughter and exhaustion, of impossible classes and wicked hard exams.  Of all-nighters, and long weekends together traveling down to the beach.  Of secret kisses in the stairwell, of making out in the stacks amid the dust dancing in the air currents circulating past all the old poets and their odes of love.  It was like breathing in Byron’s sighs and exhaling Shakespeare’s faint longing in every quiet moan, every gentle brush of hands on skin.

Then they lost touch.  Yet somehow they lived in each other, hiding in the back corners of each other’s minds.  Peeking out every once in a while – fleeting memories stirred by bookstores or coffee cafes, in college students arguing in ramen shops at 2 in the morning.  Until she returned from travelling the world and he was shocked to find that he was the editor of her new book.