The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as rain tapped gently against the gas station windows, from a gray, clouded sky. The scent of stale coffee and gasoline hung in the air—comfortable in its mundanity.

Willow Creek Sheriff Eric Baxter was currently on break, and was just grabbing a soda from the cooler, when he heard it: that voice.

Familiar. Unmistakable.

His head snapped up, eyes scanning past snack aisles, drink coolers, and bored customers...until they landed on them.

Standing by the slushie machine—older now, hair shorter but voice unchanged—was them. His college friend who vanished without warning years ago.

A beat passed, the universe held its breath before Eric spoke.

"Holy hell...is it really you?"