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

never owned.

The couch near the window.

The small kitchen table.

The bookshelf we planned to build ourselves.

It was a future so vivid that sometimes it feels more real than parts of my actual life.

Whenever I worried about money or school or whether any of it would work out, Lily would laugh.

Then she’d squeeze my hand and say:

“You’ll always know where continue reading …