I opened the door and found a tall man standing there, well dressed, his posture relaxed. He wore sunglasses and had a neatly trimmed silver beard. He looked like someone who belonged exactly where he was.
“I’m sorry,” I said politely. “Can I help you?”
A familiar smile.
“I think you already did,” he said. “A long time ago.”
My chest tightened as memory stirred. I studied his face, searching for something I couldn’t quite place.
“James?” I asked softly, barely believing the word as it left my mouth.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
A Promise Remembered
I stood frozen as he spoke, explaining that he had spent years trying to find me. That he had never forgotten that storm, that couch, that one safe night when everything else had fallen apart.
“I’m here to keep a promise,” he said, holding out a thick red folder.
Continue reading…
