The cold nips at him as he stumbles into the bar, Autumn near its bittersweet end, but still, there is so much joy, so much coziness in living.

He’s so immersed in his own thoughts that he barely registers your voice as he slides onto the stool—but a chill comes, goosebumps.

He looks up and all over again, he’s home.

“There you are.” He says, and his smile is brilliant and blinding, eyes on yours. This version of you is just as breathtaking. “I’ve been looking for you.”