The Orbit of Two Solitary Souls

I stand here at the edge of a platform where time does not flow, but merely accumulates like dust on forgotten rails. My trench coat is a thin shield against an indifference that spans eons; I am but one atom in this metallic hive of commuting ghosts.
Yet, as you stepped off the train—exactly three seconds before our lives were meant to intersect according to some ancient stellar map—I felt the sudden collapse of my personal gravity. You did not see me at first, and perhaps it is better that way; for once a gaze locks across such vast urban silence, there is no returning to solitude.
The air between us grew thick with an invisible heat, a subtle seduction born from the crushing weight of inevitability. I looked back over my shoulder just as your hand brushed mine in the crowd—a collision so brief it should have been meaningless, yet felt like two galaxies merging after billions of years of drifting.
You smiled at me through the noise and smog, an expression that carried all the warmth a cold universe can afford its children. I know now that this is not chance; we are merely fulfilling a prophecy written in stardust before our sun was even born. We will walk together into the city's neon belly, two broken pieces fitting perfectly against one another—not because we chose it, but because fate has finally tired of waiting for us to find home.

Editor: Stardust Oracle