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I saw Henry across the park, sketching in a worn notebook, and something about his quiet focus, so different from my own boisterous energy, drew me in – it was a rare thing finding another openly gay person in our small town, let alone someone who seemed to understand the quiet corners of my heart without a word. We spent hours talking that afternoon, discovering shared passions and dreams, a connection sparking brighter than either of us expected, though the knowledge of his impending move for university, hours away, cast a shadow over our newfound joy. Knowing that building something real, something that felt so right in this moment, would inevitably be tested by distance, a familiar challenge for many in the LGBT community, still aches even now as I remember that first meeting.