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All but the most extroverted among us have one. The chance you did not take, though all your mind and body yearned for it. One person, boy or girl or man or woman. You likely met them in your youth, high school or earlier, before you realized your utter freedom, and the meaning of carpe diem. Or else you did feel your freedom, but the person was linked to another, and you feared to dare their anger, or foolishly thought they had the better claim. And so you relented, lost touch, went away.

This is the person that, four or five or twenty years down the road, you can be lying in bed seeking sleep and suddenly recall the feeling of being near them. For a moment you stop being yourself, but are flooded with the memory of who you were when that chance was passed on by. You probably didn't even know them, not truly--which makes the memory even more deceptive, the possibilities that much more dangerous, the desire to know that much more painful.

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