He was a lanky guy with spectacles, a sensitive nerd like my dad. Our friendship was undeniable. When he traveled to Prague, he met the woman he would marry. Life opened its arms for him. When he returned, he told me that the city he had traveled to was my city, that I would adore its every nuance, that I would find myself reflected back in every twisted turn of its streets. He laid his words at my feet like a package I would decline to open, afraid like the Pharaoh’s daughter to believe or to disbelieve divine prophecy, facing both options head on with silence. I never spoke to or saw my friend again.