"You’re my one percent.”
Her eyebrows wrinkled. “Your what?”
“Before you came to my office that first day,” I explained, “I felt complete and at ease with my life ninety-nine percent of the time. But it was the missing one percent that haunted me. Then I found you—my missing one percent.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh.”
“It’s you. It’s always been you. When you left me, it was you. When you came back, it was you. It will never be anyone else.”