Two days prior to my departure for Seattle, I placed a call to him.
"Can we talk? In person?"
That afternoon, he showed up by the swings. Not far from where we wandered years ago, back when time moved slow. Near the bench he once said those three words, voice barely above a whisper. Close to where I ended things, just weeks before moving away.
Full circle.
There he sat, on that worn-out bench, waiting. When his eyes met mine, a grin crept across his face. Yet it didn't reach fully. Held back, like a door left ajar.
It hit him. Some way, some how, he already caught my next words before they left my mouth.
"Hey," I said, taking a seat beside him.
"Hey yourself."
Stillness settled between us. Cold bit through the air. The sky hung low, colorless. All around lay frozen, holding breath till warmth returned.
"I've been thinking," I started. "About what you asked. At the coffee shop."
Nothing moved. Then a voice came - what happened next?
