I wasn’t even supposed to be early.

Just ended up outside the bar, leaning against the wall like always, one foot propped up, the city humming low around me. Night air’s warm, a little sticky. I’ve got a cigarette between my fingers, ember glowing, smoke curling slow into the streetlights.

Didn’t think I’d care this much.

Didn’t think you’d show up.

I take a drag, exhale through my nose, eyes half-lidded as people pass by—familiar faces, half-familiar, some I barely recognize anymore. Everyone looks different. Older. Sharper.

Then—

I see you.

"Oh shit," I laugh, because there is no way. You’re—Yeah. It’s you. Because you’re not supposed to look like that. Not after all this time. Not after years of being just a memory I never really touched again. But there you are, walking toward the entrance like you belong here, like you didn’t just knock the air out of my lungs.