Last night, Christopher and I played a game while walking the dogs. Earlier in the evening, he had joked about us not being "meant to be." The sky was dark and the air was warm and I told him to shout a number between 1 and 10 on the count of three, and if we said the same one, we were meant to be. I said 7 and he said 4. I said I almost said 4, and he said he almost said 7. The rest of the walk home we tested our compatibility in different categories, seeing if we could shout the same thing. Approaching our building, I said, "color of the rainbow on three; one, two, three―we both said blue. Next was season―we both said fall. And then Christopher said, "best kind of dog; one, two, three" and in unison we shouted, "KANYE!" then erupted in laughter. I guess we're meant to be.