At six, I knew there was no way I’d be able to fall back asleep. So I threw on some leggings, a sports bra, and a giant NYU sweatshirt that very clearly had a coffee stain on the front and should have gone into the laundry instead of on my body. I grabbed a ten-dollar bill, my sunglasses, and my key, slapped some sunscreen on my face and a hat on my head, and went out to walk. It was brisk and cool, and the sun was still rising. I didn’t have my phone to guide me; I’d left it at home so I could fully clear my head: no music, no texts to friends, no GPS. Just me.

But after an hour and a half taking step after step after step, something became obvious: All this clearheadedness and honesty and expressing myself had made me very, very hungry.

I’d ended up in Carroll Gardens, and I found my way to a bagel shop I’d never been to before. I grabbed an everything bagel and a coffee and sat down in the small seating area. In the corner was a dad making faces at his giggling toddler, and across from me sat an old couple munching on bialys. Overhead, a TV was playing commercials, the volume low. I chewed slowly and watched; it felt strange not to have my phone to stare at for once. Suddenly, NYN’s morning show was on the screen, and my old friends Pete and Jenna. My TV appearance felt so long ago now I almost couldn’t believe that it had happened. But I still remembered it all in detail, from the sound of my dress ripping to the first time my eyes had connected with his, to the way his leg had felt when I’d nervously kicked it under the table on our on-air coffee date. And now our lives were intrinsically connected, because of one small moment that had set off a chain of events like fireworks.

I was so focused on my memories that it took me a second to realize that Hayes was now on the screen above me. Hayes.

“Excuse me!” I shouted to the teenager working behind the counter. “Can you turn up the TV, please?”

She slid a remote across the counter, and I reached for it, pressing the volume button until Pete’s voice was clear.

Hayes smiled at this, and a full-screen shot of us sitting next to each other during that interview appeared.

“That’s me!” I said out loud, without thinking. Everyone turned to look.

“Really?” said the older man, adjusting his cap as if that would help him see better.

“Yes,” I said, a little defensively. “I just had a lot of makeup on there. And no hat.”