Read my latest story, "The All-Nighter", at 52|250.

Those of you who have been reading my blog since it was on Livejournal know that 2006 was a difficult year for me. That March, just before the cherry blossoms peaked, I left Ashikaga, a small city in Japan where I had friends, a job I enjoyed, and a monthly open mic in Tokyo to attend.  I left a place where I was happy, largely because someone had convinced me that he cared about me. As it turned out, he was someone for whom the word asshole would be too good. He was a torturer, a narcissist, and I hold those close to him who know yet continue to support him responsible as enablers.

I bring this up because I recently found out that on the very day when my miserable sojourn in New York began, I came close to meeting someone who is now a wonderful supportive force in my life, someone who encourages both my work and my happiness.  The Scholastic and I actually met this past summer at the vampire fiction conference I attended in Liverpool. Recent conversations have revealed, however, that on the day I moved to New York, he flew in for a conference. We both landed at JFK on flights just half an hour apart, though at different terminals. Had I taken the subway instead of a cab (not likely with two heavy suitcases in tow), we could have ended up on the same train.

Part of me wants to believe that if we had seen each other then, the misery of the months to follow could have been avoided, though of course the context makes that unlikely.

What is harder to shake off is the feeling that this near miss combined with the singular unlikelihood of our meeting suggests some sort of attractive force– not destiny because destiny should not miss– between us.

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