Nine Years Ago Munich, Germany
Greyson
We left the bakery, our cocoas and pastries in hand. Thankfully, I knew the general way to Alter Botanischer Garten—the old botanical garden with beautiful buildings, gravel paths and stone benches.
We walked and talked, passing back through Stachus with its fountain and tram rails embedded in the ground.
Within minutes we were standing in front of the Justizpalast, the Palace of Justice.
The lighting washed the building facade in a warm golden glow, highlighting the columns and sculptures.
The glass dome glistened softly overhead.
“What is that?” Hallie asked me wide-eyed, her voice breathy with wonder.
“It’s your palace, princess,” I said, feeling almost foolish, but far too happy to care.
“And who will be my prince?” she asked, playing along with a British accent.
“I don’t know a man worthy enough,” I said, the truth coming far too easily. I added a bow for dramatic effect.
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes roving across the building as if she owned it. “I will have to set up a contest. And the winner will have my hand.”
“I’m a strong competitor,” I told her.
“I’m counting on it,” she said, laughing and skipping away with her cocoa in hand.
I picked up my pace, not skipping, but walking fast enough to catch up to her.
“I wonder what it would be like to live in a castle,” she said. “Maybe lonely.”
“Not if you have the right people around you.”
“True.” She nodded, and we walked the peaceful, tree-lined street toward the botanical garden.
The garden wasn’t like the ones I’d seen in America.
This one had no gates around it to keep it closed at night.
We could still hear the muted sounds of the city in the distance.
Paths crossed through this urban park and the random person would occasionally stroll through coming from a train or a night out.
We entered along Sophienstra?e. Patches of lamplight filtered through the trees.
The further we walked into the park, the more it felt like we were leaving the city behind us.
A short distance in, we came to an open lawn and the Neptune fountain, surrounded by trees.
Hallie stared at the statue in the middle.
“Look at all the children and dolphins at his feet.”
I stood next to her, our shoulders touching, the warmth between us spreading through the layers of my jacket and shirt.
I’m not sure how long we stood there. I had never felt so alive—like life was full of possibility and she held the key.
I wanted to soak in everything she saw—to see the world through her eyes and hold on to every second of wonder.
A bench sat only a few steps away along one of the pathways.
“Let’s sit there,” I suggested. “We can still see the fountain from that bench.”
She nodded and we walked to the stone seat. I removed my coat before she shivered, placing it over her shoulders.
“How did you know I was cold?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted you to wear my jacket.”
She smiled.
Our pastries were still warm when we opened the bags. We shared bites, feeding one another as if we’d known each other for years instead of hours.
When we finished our food, I threw the paper into a trash can.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked, returning to stand in front of her.
“There’s no music,” she answered with a giggle.
“Music is overrated,” I said jokingly.
I almost took back the ridiculous request. But then she stood.
I extended my palm upward, and she placed hers in mine.
Then I looped my arm around her back, under my jacket, and tugged her close.
She raised her arm and set it so it reached over my shoulder and her fingers lightly brushed along my neck.
My pulse jumped and my breath caught. She glanced up at me, aware of my reaction to her touch.
I started swaying, and we danced—to silence, but music seemed to be coming from somewhere between us.
When our song came to an end, we stood there, her staring up at me and me smiling down at her. And I leaned in. This time, not for a brush of our lips. This time I lingered and she drew closer in, giving me all the permission I needed.
We knew our bubble was preparing to pop. The walls were stretched thin. Our night wasn’t a lifetime. It was a rare gift—one we only held for a few short hours. But we had more that night than some people have in a lifetime together.
My lips memorized hers, telling her she was different, special, somehow mine, even though that didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense. But she did. And when she kissed me back, I knew she felt everything I did.
We gave one another something to take away with us that night. And I’ve carried that piece of her with me all these years like an invisible souvenir.
We broke apart and I brushed a hair from her face, running my fingers down her cheek.
I started to say something to her about the future, but I couldn’t. What kind of promise could I make to her? I had no idea what was coming next.
So when she asked me, “Maybe we should exchange numbers?” I simply answered her, “Maybe.”