Preliminary findings suggest that falling is not simply an accident of gravity but a deliberate, almost sentient act among celestial bodies. You are a cold, irregular, stray matter that appeared on my path unexpectedly. And yet, I have seen how you move. How, even in the vastness of space, you chose the path towards my planet.

You fell, recklessly intentional, towards me.

As you entered my atmosphere, I ran the simulations over and over because the textbooks promised you would disintegrate. By all calculations, this should have been destruction. Yet, you burned beautifully and survived the fire. Pieces of you lit up my sky, and your core remained brilliant and intact.

I braced for impact. I expected ruin.

But you landed softly, and everything in me rearranged in the crater you left behind. I should clarify: this is not a study of loss. The crater you left did not signify damage—it was a mark of presence, almost as if declaring you wanted to be here. That you chose this fall.

So now, I will rewrite my hypothesis.

Perhaps, some asteroids are not destructive. You are the anomaly. But maybe, I was the one adrift until you gave me orbit. Maybe love isn’t something that pulls but something that arrives.

Perhaps you were never wandering—just on your way.

I did not misread the data. The asteroid was real. The fall was intentional.

And love is gravitational.

• Sean Clifford M. Malinao