The tube was noisy, and all of the rattles and squeaks went through me, causing shivers to run down my spine. The weather above ground was sunny and warm, the train I was on was practically a sauna. But, with my headphones in my ears, I tried to ignore the suffocating heat and think about my journey and the rest of my day. It turned out that Milly lived on the other side of London from me, so I had to make many train changes on my trip to go and get her. I looked out of the grimy window, taking in the wall that was racing past and watching the coloured wires that ran along it.

In forty minutes, you will be there.

I smiled at that thought, and started making plans in my head before trying to put them in order. By the time I would get there, and then we get back into the main city, it would be almost lunch time, and I was running through all of my favourite places where I always used to go as a child, thinking if it was possible for us to get inside or whether there were stairs or whether the street was on it was cobbled or full of potholes. Then, my thoughts drifted to Milly's blog - more specifically, the post in which she spoke about her "friends" who were unwilling to go out with her because they thought it required a lot of extra effort on their part. I felt a rush of anger, a wave of fury. Some people were so quick to judge, and even quicker to write off anything that might be "different". I was glad I had found Milly. She didn't deserve any of that.

The streets around Milly's house were quiet, calm cul de sacs that were filled with bungalow after bungalow, each with neatly mowed lawns and perfectly pruned hedges lining the boundaries of their gardens. The houses themselves were all grey or white, each with a black door. I felt a pang of sympathy for Milly as I walked up and down the pavement, squinting within an inch of my life to read the numbers on each door.

24, 22, 20, 18, 16, 14, 12...

10.

My feet planted themselves on the concrete as I took in the bungalow, the lace curtains, the ramp up to the door and the sunflowers in the window by the garage. This was it. I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes before proceeding down the garden path and pressing their doorbell, waiting, waiting, waiting to be told that it was the wrong house. I heard a small "meow" from down below and, upon looking, was greeted with a small, tortoiseshell cat snaking its way through my legs and rubbing its head on my converse. I smiled, watching the cat for a couple of moments and laughing as it yowled to be let into the house. I could hear someone's voice from behind the door, then the chain slid back and the door swung smoothly open. My eyes snapped up to see the face of a stranger, an unfamiliar friend. The world seemed to pause for just a couple of moments. The stranger looked down at my feet. Then she looked up. Then she smiled with her eyes, the corners crinkling as her face broke into a grin. I let out an internal sigh of relief before smiling back.

"Hey, Milly," My words were more quiet than I had initially anticipated, any confidence I had thought that I had was taking a back seat. She remained silent for a couple of moments, clearly relishing the moment. Then:

"Dad, I'm going out!" she shouted to the house behind her, reaching for a rucksack, slinging it over the handles of her chair before rushing out of the door and letting it shut behind her. Then, on the drive, she stopped for me to catch up.

"Where now then?" I asked.

"Anywhere." She said.

The streets of London were heaving for a Sunday, although the atmosphere seemed friendly and calm and kind. Milly and I had eaten lunch in a small but enjoyable coffee shop, bought at least four books each and eaten approximately five ice creams between us that we had purchased from various street vendors and I had spoken more than I had over the last two or three years. The words just seemed so comfortable. Now, it was approaching seven o'clock in the evening and we found ourselves sitting by the Tower Bridge, watching the water flow and all of the boats that it took along with it. The sky was painted in a dozen rich oranges and deep blues, pinks and purples, taking off its mask of the clouded day to settle down for the evening as Milly and I leaned up against each other.

"You know, I forgot that friendship felt like this," I admitted truthfully from my position curled up on the bench.

"I didn't know it could," Milly shrugged. "I never let anyone be my friend as a child, and - when I did - the army decided that we had to move halfway across the country or to another one entirely. After living in three different countries and four different English counties before I was twelve, I sort of started giving up naturally. I didn't think about any of it, it just happened."

"Yeah..."

"I'm glad I found you, Annie. Really I am. I don't think I have ever loved anyone so much in my life - other than my cat," She smirked at her own joke, and I gasped in mock offence.

"Bitch, how dare you!" I leaned back, pretending to pass out at the horror of my discovery. "I'm joking, it's all good," A dog walker passed us, looking concerned for the pair of us before getting on with his day. We burst into giggles as we watched him, laughing until our cheeks started to hurt and clutching each other desperately.

"I haven't laughed this much in such a long time," Milly gasped and - after a long pause - I nodded and smiled in agreement.

"Neither have I." There was another moment of silence. There was so much that I wanted to say, but no words were able to express my thoughts properly, the ones I had seemed to feel inadequate and all I could do was cringe at the thought of saying any of those words out loud. It seemed that platonic and meaningful love in a relationship was incredibly difficult to convey without coming across as too eager, creepy or flirtatious. None of those things were what I was wanting to come off as.

"And to think this whole situation is completely coincidental," Milly mused from her position next to me. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked cautiously, a moment of quiet anxiety clutching at my throat that I didn't try to actively shake off. Milly's eyes went wide with panic and she started talking very quickly.

"No, no, no, not in a bad way... I just meant that the odds of this happening are just so, so slim, I saw your blog, thought you were like me, I started following your blog and then you messaged me and here we are, both living in the same city and looking up at the same sky from the same bench." I took a silent shallow breath in and studied Milly's face closely.

"This isn't something you regret, then?" I queried, reaching my hand out to place on top of hers. She turned to face me and our eyes met for a moment.

"Not at all," She beamed as she squeezed my hand. "Not at all, Annie. This is our universe and we are going to live in it."