9am, you get in to the car and take the same road to work everyday.
The stop sign appears at the 10th second of 9:15. You don’t see the same cars as those that were in front of you yesterday. Probably not the same bumper-to-bumper on your trail tomorrow. You fall in line to the concert but you wont be sitting beside the guy who intentionally bumped you, or the lady who acted like she can pay for your seats just so she can cut the line without anyone confronting her. You, after all, will eventually see the same concert, so giving your spot for one wont hurt.
The club’s full, and you have that habit of staring at people’s faces while they dance, and drink, and flirt with the person they just met there. You think of plays and assume how they might be feeling while they do what they do. On your next visit, or when you pass by that street, you forget them. The familiarity has already faded because you never got to see them again, or the emotions you painted on their faces that night you watched them.
The statistics can be wrong, they might have gotten lazy to update it after a month or two, even when there are dozens of babies being born on every hospital there is. They probably have not included the new one the mayor built before the elections.
So there must be millions or billions or whatever large number name is closely appropriate to the population of countries combined. You probably met a million in a month, depending on the distance and on your laziness to go outside. But more or less, you’ve met more than you could count by hand and capacity of your memory.
All these people, yet, you only look for one person every day. Only one person you wish you could get to share the road with on every second of every stop, even when you’re already late because at least you have that view. Only one person you’d take to the concert even if it takes longer waiting than actually watching, because then, you get to talk more. That person you can already tell and imagine how they dance to a certain song, or how their lips create a curve when they sip and feel that their nearing to getting tipsy, or how they’d handle being flirted by a stranger, and you laugh a little, because you know they’re already planning how to run.
All these people, yet unconsciously, or best deny it to yourself, there’s only this one person you’d want to see. Only one person you’d trade anyone for, just so they can switch places and you wont be far from each other anymore. Billions of people, yet you only feel at your best with one. Dozens of dozens, yet your whole and their whole still creates one.