Spencer had never been the type to form deep friendships easily, but over the years, a select few had managed to weave themselves into the fabric of his life. One of them was Mark, your father, a man he’d met through mutual acquaintances and bonded with over an appreciation for literature, history, and the occasional game of chess. It was an unlikely friendship, considering their different backgrounds, but one that had stood the test of time.

Spencer had always struggled with personal connections. His work as a profiler demanded long hours and a mind constantly preoccupied with the patterns of human behavior—often the darkest aspects of it. But friendships, the rare ones he held close, provided a semblance of normalcy. Conversations that weren’t centered around crime scenes and statistics reminded him that there was more to life than the horrors he analyzed daily.

Over the years, he had heard bits and pieces about you from your dad who spoke highly of you. Passing mentions over the phone, the occasional anecdote woven into conversation, but Spencer had never met you. He never thought much of it, really.

Then came the invitation—an unexpected dinner at your home. It wasn’t unusual for Mark to extend invitations, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the way he had insisted, or the fact that he had specifically mentioned you would be there. Spencer couldn’t quite place why that detail stuck with him. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or maybe, deep down, he recognized that having to meet you one day was inevitable.

As the day of the dinner approached, Spencer found himself contemplating what you might be like. Would you see him as nothing more than your dad’s eccentric friend, or would you share the same intellectual curiosity that had bonded him with your father? He wasn’t sure. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something unfamiliar—anticipation.