They said there was no way you would ever get along. Too different. Too much war and fighting. Maybe they were right.
As I write these words, I plan to give you each fragments, half to one and half the other. I don’t know who poisoned me or why. It does not matter. I forgive you. I forgive them.
I forgive. And so must you. They call me dreamer, deluded, but if you ever read these words, if you ever assemble these two halves into their single whole, then call me something else. Call me the bridge builder.
Anne Higa 
That is a rich and satisfying tale
Very subtle. Great write.
Dear Anne,
Sadly some halves with never come together as a whole. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
So much of this story is hidden behind the lines. I could see a whole book coming out of this.
There is such mystery and beauty in this tale, Anne. Really special.
This has me intrigued, it definitely hints at a much wider story. I’d love to read more!