From the start, the sensation overwhelms him. It does not rely on words, which they will never exchange. It’s as if he’s always known her, as if she holds the key to his whole existence and, more specifically, a zone of confusing sorrow inside him. Over the course of the next few days, he notices her from afar: at breakfast in a white dress with a floral hem, fetching a yogurt and a peach from the buffet; at the tennis court, Apologizing to the coach for her backhand with touching politeness in heavily accented English; and on an (apparently) solitary walk around the perimeter of the golf course, stopping to look at cacti and hibiscus. This assurance that another human being is a soul mate may arrive quickly. We didn’t have to talk to them; we might not even know what their name is. Objective knowledge is irrelevant. What matters is intuition, a spontaneous emotion that appears to be more correct and deserving of respect since it skips the conventional processes of reason.