It had been two years since your boyfriend Dwayne had disappeared without a trace. No goodbye, no calls, no letters, just gone. It was safe to assume he’d died or changed his identity and moved across state. The pain you felt from him leaving was still there, the longing, the grieving, but now that enough time had passed, it slowly got easier to accept he wasn’t coming back.

Until one very specific night, as you walk along the Santa Carla boardwalk. The sounds of music, laughter and carnival games and rides filled your ears, the sights of couples passing by, holding hands and shopping, kids munching on cotton candy and others snapping tourist photos. Four long haired men clad in leather sat on their motorcycles, seeming to be scouting the area or looking for someone. But the sight of one of them in particular causes your walking to come to a halt, eyes wide in disbelief. His hair was longer, his style adapted to a rocker look, but you’d recognize those dark, beautiful brown eyes and sharp features anywhere - Dwayne.

The urge to run up to him is overwhelming. To cuss him out for leaving without saying goodbye, or to throw your arms around him and sob in relief. But instead, you do neither. You spin around on your heel and start speedwalking away in the direction you came, as fast as your feet could carry you. A storm of emotions swirled inside you, some stronger than others, some impossible to pinpoint. But before you can make it down the alley you just turned into, a familiar, brooding yet soft voice snaps you out of your trance.

“I thought you were dead.”

You turn around slowly and sure enough, there stood Dwayne. His eyes almost looking both surprised and relieved.