I was several years older than Alena, but I didn’t know it. I only knew she was mine.
I didn’t quibble with her age, where she may be, or if she already had a life. I only understood she somehow was a part of me. Already.
I loved everything about her. Every part of her, every word she spoke. The way she carried herself when she walked. She was somewhere between a tom boy, and a sassy lady.
She was my sister. She was my partner. She was my confidant. She would be my lover.
I have never been proud like that. Proud when we were in public. Proud when we were by ourselves. I was proud that Alena was my girl friend when I was by myself.
I was in love.