wo decades following our high school dance, the young woman who completely shifted my world appeared on my porch during a storm in a situation we never could have guessed. She failed to remember my face. I knew who she was right away. Plus, prior to the following evening ending, I pulled a move she never saw coming.
The water was falling so heavily that evening it seemed as though the clouds had dropped right on top of my house.
The moment the buzzer sounded, I pulled the entrance open assuming I would get food sacks and a fast word of thanks. Rather than that, I spotted the lady I had held in my mind for two whole decades waiting on my steps wearing a washed-out driver coat.
Identical cheek indents. Identical big dark eyes. Identical gentle lips I had previously seen grinning my way below the dance hall bulbs back when I was seventeen and fighting the urge to trust in magic.
Chloe extended the meal using two hands, her digits shaking due to the chill, a wet sports hat blocking the light from her features.
“Your meal, mister,” she spoke.
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