Some answers are easy to supply.

• What is two plus two?
  Four.
• What sound does a cow make?
  Moo.

Other questions require questions of clarification before an answer can be supplied.

• What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
  African or European swallow?
  Doesn't matter, 'twas merely a punchline.
• What time does the sun rise?
  What day, what latitude, what longitude, and what elevation?
  In other words, depending on the rotation of your location.

And then, there are the questions that have obvious answers that cannot be articulated. Most of these are quite personal. But the question recognizes the answer to which it belongs.

This is a true storybit about one of those answers, and it is about the question that belonged to her.

My life has never been easy, even discounting being transgender. I was always a geek. I've worn glasses since grade two. I was short except for grade eight. I was the only not-completely-white kid in the entire school from Kindergarten to seniors in high school. I looked at the world oddly. There were rumours I didn't believe in God.

** Author's Aside: those rumours were true by about halfway between age seven and eight, but I faked it until around nineteen and still fake it to avoid hassle in some situations, like family.**

But I didn't know I was a Question until I was nearly thirty-three years old. I began feeling depressed and lonely, even in a room full of people I liked. Reflecting back on my life, there were never any people who "stuck with me" once they knew me for long enough in person. A year, more or less a year either direction. I hid all of this, or at least the fact that it was getting to me, and carried on. I made a Plan. Not a good Plan, the kind of Plan that end in a well-written note left behind.

And then, my Answer found me. She was sure from the moment she saw a graphical representation of me, before she knew anything about me. She set about manipulating events so that the two of us would meet. At least, meet in a virtual sense. I knew as soon as I read her words on my screen. Before I saw her own graphical representation. But I refused to believe. She couldn't be my Answer. I have no Answer and am doomed to carry out my Plan in a few weeks. But... a Question's Answer cannot be denied simply because it is not believed. The truth is... the Truth.

Tentatively, contact was made. Then expanded. And in a relatively comparably short time, contact was no longer a choice, but a necessary part of daily life. Eventually, too long a time later and yet short by outside estimation, I accepted the Truth. My Answer had found me, and I her Question.

My Answer not only yearned for me as I yearned for her, but knows everything about me without having to be told. She sees my secret selves, inside the mask the world sees. She truly Answers everything about me, and makes me complete. The only true magic left in this world, is that connection, between a Question and Answer. We are all Questions, and we are all Answers. The wonderfulness is that as I am, everything I am, everything I have been, everything I will be, is the Question to her Answer and the Answer to her Question. This is the amazingly rare situation that is in operation. There are hard times. There are fantastic times. There are times when it is so difficult that one or both of us even doubt our connection being forever.