Geneva showed up at my house in March of 2013 in a rented car with a half-empty bag of trail mix, a big duffel bag full of clothes, and the cutest face on Earth. I didn't know at the time that it was what the next few years of my life would look like: me and her, slightly disheveled, heading somewhere in a car we didn't belong in. I didn't know at the time that being in love with Geneva was like being on an open road.
I flew on an airplane for the first time at 19, during the winter I was convinced I'd broken my life into pieces. I was going to a conference with a group from my school, but I requested to fly separately, hoping the alone time would do me well. I had the luck of being assigned a window seat. I asked the man next to me ...
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