Like a moth to a flame, I had once thrown myself headlong into the warmth I craved, only to forget that such devotion was always one-sided. The fire never yearned for the moth.Because I was never good at socializing, I found daily interactions difficult, yet in other ways, my solitude made life easier, even more comfortable.One afternoon, while photographing at Richter National Park, I came across a man sketching quietly by the lake. He had clear features, a tall, upright frame, and a warmth in his bearing that drew the eye.When he noticed my lingering gaze, he smiled. "I see you here often, taking photos. And every day you feed the stray cats and talk to them."Heat rushed to my cheeks as he laughed, repeating the little details I never thought anyone had noticed."Hello, I'm Chuck Bennet.""Emma Bourne."Turned out, Chuck was a fellow countryman.In a foreign land, it felt rare and precious to meet someone from home. An easy sense of familiarity settled between us. We exch
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