And I wanted to tell her, then, what a miracle it was that I knew her at all, how improbable this all had been—our meeting by chance on a boxcar I’d only boarded in a fit of pique, miles and miles away from where either of us had originated. Still we’d come together, and that night, under the stars that sang along to the humming of the accordion, I understood that this was something rare and holy, this unlikely union. Our friendship was meant to be. It was bigger than us; it was something, really something. It was everything to me.
