It's been just over nine months since I first met her. She moved away, and so did I. We're in totally different parts of the world—I'm in Europe, and she's still in the US. We still talk, and I still feel like somebody loves me and thinking about me.

I wrote the first three chapters of Familiar right before she moved, late one night when I should have been sleeping. Who can sleep? What is tomorrow when it has no hope? I was facing a new trial, in the face of life abroad. I was about to be separated from my friend, who'd I only just met. I wanted her to know how I felt, about her, about me, about life.

Familiarity is such a unique thing. You can feel that something is similar to another thing, and call it familiar. You can say you're familiar with a particular topic. You can be well-acquainted with someone, and be familiar. But how many people are familiar with someone they've never met before? With just one look, one touch, who can say they know somebody already? I can.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This is the last chapter in Familiar. I´ve done some revising to the first three chapters, to make it clearer and so that it covers all of my feelings. Like before, I´m up writing this when I should be sleeping. I hope people see this tribute for what it really is.

L.C.