When I first met Jasmine Greene, she came in as raindrops. I was the awkward musician, and she was the high school queen. The only things we had in common were our music and our loneliness. Something in her eyes told me her smile wasn’t always the truth. Something in her voice gave me a hope I always wished to find. And in a flash, she was gone. Years later, she was standing in front of me on a street in New Orleans. She was different, but so was I. Life made us colder. Harder. Isolated. Caged. Even though we were different, the broken pieces of me recognized the sadness in her. Now she was back, and I wouldn’t make the mistake of letting her go again. When I first met Jasmine Greene, she came in as raindrops. When we met again, I became her darkest storm.