I remember, before I met you, I would always see you on the street. We would see each other nearly every day, you would be busy on your way somewhere, and I busy on my way elsewhere. Unlike the many other familiar faces on the street, yours was one that I felt comfortable with. I never felt the need to avert my eyes or dig through my bag as you passed. I would always look straight at you and await that moment of recognition and then keep walking. Sometimes you would smile other times a nod or perhaps just a slight change of facial expression. I on the other hand always kept the same face, although I am still not sure what that face may have been.