The Man Who Walked In and Collapsed the Years
The station doors slid open.
A man strode inside like he belonged everywhere.
Tall. Cashmere coat over a tux, like he’d left a gala mid-sentence.
Gray at the temples.
But the eyes.
I saw the echoes instantly.
The determined chin.
The same dark gaze.
He scanned the station, saw me, and stopped.
“Mrs. Baker,” he said, voice rough with emotion.
