He likes nights like this one.

The steady rhythm of the raindrops against the rooftop, providing a soothing backdrop to your exchange. A cigarette shared between you two, a multitude of topics that neither of you seem to tire of.

The peace of the evening has him remembering his past. Something he rarely does these days.

A question burns his mind. He leans in, passing the cigarette back to you.

"What would you say to your younger self?" he asks quietly.