We fell in love in 5 weeks.

It sounds like some dumb teen novel; clueless American falls hard for  chiseled Spaniard against the backdrop of a beautiful deepwoods Minnesotan summer camp. 

And it was a dumb teen novel, with all the sleepless nights watching meteors fall and holding hands in secret during staff meetings and sneaking out to the hidden lake during activities and you whispering Spanish love poems and then desperately trying to translate them even though I speak Spanish enough to know every word.

But teen novels don't end with you moving back to Spain. And teen novels don't end with you telling me "you're sorry" that we "just grew apart."

And teen novels don't end with me lying and telling you that I feel the distance too and then crying and crying.

Teen novels bridge the impossible gaps.

We didn't.