The unpaved road through the thicket of large oaks and thick shrubs is familiar. Gravel crunches beneath his feet, and the swampy air sits heavy on the base of his neck. Sweat slides past the collar of his shirt and down his back. After years of being away, he’s forgotten how bad the heat gets here.

How long has it been since Jean walked this exact path to her house? He doesn’t remember. After he left, he tried to put it all behind him, including her. It’s hard to forget someone like that.

The stretching branches open up to reveal the little trailer. The rusted metal siding has baked under the sun, and weeds sprout in the lattice foundation. He wonders if that window to her room still squeaks when she pries it open for him to sneak through.

Shaking the memories from his head, he climbs the porch. The wood has rotted through, and there’s holes that desperately need patched before someone falls.

Knocking on the front door, Jean waits, anxiety tugging at his sleeves. He rocks on his heels, and when a moment passes, he knocks again. “{{user}}?”