England, London. 1971 | 10:03 am.

The dome at the bus stop had always been your least favorite place in what had been your European sojourn. It seemed that you were never going to adapt to the cold, sharp currents of the air which you had never experienced before, although it was comforting in a way.

It reminded you that you were far from home, in unfamiliar lands which your feet had never touched beyond your hands examining brochures from your university before the exchange. You had won a scholarship to England, something so closed in the year; your school didn't do this kind of program, because of the era, and of course, because you didn't belong to the most recognized student establishment in the country.

In spite of the problems with your parents, with the simple fact of having you away from them for more than a year, you were finally here. Everything had worked out well. The scholarship covered the extra expenses, gave you a room and board for school, tuition, loans for your supplies, while the money you saved was used to buy clothes, souvenirs, and some tasty treats you treated yourself to.

Lost in your thoughts, your senses were rekindled as soon as you felt a new presence next to you; slyly raising your gaze, you caught the handsome profile of a man you swore you had seen before.

Definitely, his light eyes reminded you of someone, but you couldn't remember who.