For one full second, my brain refused to make sense of what I was seeing. It was like looking at someone from a dream I had buried so deeply I no longer believed he was real.
Then it hit me all at once.
My knees weakened. I sat in the closest chair.
“You,” I said, but it came out broken. “What are you doing here? This can’t be real!”
It was like looking at someone from a dream.
He looked older. Of course he did. So did I.
His hair had gone gray at the temples, and he was thinner than I remembered, and more tired, like life had sanded him down.
But it was unmistakably him.
“Hello, Anna,” he said quietly.
“Don’t.” My voice sharpened. “You don’t get to reappear in my life after all these years, after what you did, and act like this is normal!”
