We met at a dog park, on an ordinary summer afternoon. Nothing remarkable about it — except that it was. One conversation led to a second date, a theme park, and fireworks that neither of us planned to make symbolic but somehow were. We didn’t want the night to end, so we found a bench by the water in Old Montreal and just… kept talking. About everything. About nothing. About big dreams and small fears, the kind of things you don’t usually say out loud. The way you do when you’ve found someone you don’t want to stop listening to. The city went quiet around us. Monday morning arrived without permission. By 7am, neither of us had slept — and neither of us cared. That was the night we knew.