My mother always told me that I would know when I met the one.

She said, “Morgan, when you meet them, it will be like everything stops. The world stops spinning, you stop breathing, and you just… You see. You’ll look into their eyes and a calm will come over you. Your knees will stop shaking, your heart beat will slow, and you’ll just… You’ll know, sweetheart. You’ll know.”

I never really believed her. Or thought that I would ever have the chance, to be perfectly honest. We moved around a lot because of my dad’s job. I never got to live in one place long enough to even have the chance of maybe progressing a relationship far enough to get to that.Then I met her.

That is one of the most clichéd phrases in literary history, but it’s true. And I guess based on that logic, I should have believed my mom. But I’m a teenager, so those rules don’t apply.

It happened a few years ago. We had just moved (again) and it was my very first day of school. It was the middle of the semester for everyone else.

I had gotten lost and ended up in the gym, but I didn’t turn around. I stayed. Because I saw her.

The walls of the halls were thick, and the doors were closed, so I couldn’t hear when she was dancing to. But I could see her.

I could see her twirling and spinning… Sweeping her leg across the ground. All through a tiny, square window in the large, black door.