My First Love Died on My 17th Birthday — Thirty Years Later, a Young Woman Who Looked Exactly Like Her Appeared at My Door

plans.

I had just received a college acceptance letter.

She kept a folded newspaper clipping with apartment listings tucked inside her notebook.

One apartment became our favorite.

Third floor.

Large windows.

A narrow fire escape overlooking the western sky.

We talked about it so often that even now, thirty years later, I can still picture the furniture we continue reading …