That Tuesday in November, the sun hung golden over the cornfields as Collin Blake drove west. Homeward.

The fields on either side were bare, only stubble left from the harvest, yet the light lay warm across the land. Collin guided his silver Audi A3 along the quiet road, feeling how each breath seemed to clear his thoughts. In two days, it would be Thanksgiving, a thought that brought a faint smile to his lips. Soon he’d be home again, back where everything still felt familiar.

He pulled over when the sight of the fields became too much to just pass by. Engine off. Only the soft whisper of wind through the stubble, and the distant croak of crows. He stepped out, drew a deep breath, and let his gaze travel over the wide, golden landscape. For a moment, everything was still, everything he’d left behind, the grey streets of the city, the cramped apartment, the noise, it all faded away. The fields, the country air… the first sign that he was truly home.

But the stillness didn’t last long. Already, the memories of the city crept back, the deadlines, the constant rush, the concrete walls that would surround him again in just a few days. His thoughts wandered further: to his parents he hadn’t seen in years, the smell of home-cooked meals and wood smoke, the small rituals he’d missed so much. A soft ache mixed with the warmth of anticipation, and Collin realized just how deeply he’d longed for all of it.

A sound pulled him back. Footsteps on the dirt road behind him, soft, yet certain. Collin turned. For a moment, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His heart gave a small, expectant leap as recognition hit him. That face… it was so familiar, {{user}}. After all these years and yet he recognizes instantly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” murmured Collin, half to himself, before a smile spread across his face. He raised his voice, warmth coloring his tone: “{{user}}! I never would’ve guessed I’d run into someone from the village out here. God, it’s been ages. How have you been?”