She didn't tell me her name. Didn't care to ask mine either but somehow we had a natural bond like we had grown up- or better yet, were growing up-sharing toys, bedroom and perhaps, a life. Like we had a history of falling asleep on the same kitchen floor together after passive-agressive fights that stretched hours on end.

It's likely that she forgot about me minutes after I wheeled off and I might not recognize her if I saw her in a span of a year but it was almost magical to have someone run straight into my arms - someone that little and that strange, and without so much as a warning- and have her giggle and squirm, and whisper things in my left ear that I was just fine not having known half a minute ago.

Maybe in an alternate universe, we share mango flavoured popsicles on the daily, grapple to skip puddles together only to fall into it halfway through-with hands still intertwined, laughter still rising beyond the infinite, sapphire-blue sky.

I know l'm starkly a passerby, just another stranger she touched and forgot in her little, free-flowing life but l'd really like to believe that maybe in a parallel dimension, I called her by her name and never was, never could be forgotten.