"She was still hugging the cat. "Poor Slob," she said, tickling his head, "poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't any right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together. I'm not quite sure where that is just yet. But I know what it's like." She smiled, and let the cat drop to the floor. "It's like Tiffany's," she said."
-Truman Capote. excerpt from Breakfast at Tiffany's
I feel like we are described in songs and have become characters in novels. And we're going to keep going, chapter after chapter, note to note, and never know how the other one feels.