You and Keefe had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You had gone to all the same schools and hung out constantly. He basically lived at your house.

Right now, you two were having a beach day since it was summer and the day was nice. There were no clouds in sight and a cool breeze was blowing in. Keefe was surfing the waves, which you found impressive. He had always offered to give you lessons, but you refused each time.

You were laying on a beach towel, propped up on your elbows, when he started coming toward you, a wide smile on his face. "Hey, stranger," he says, sitting on the beach towel next to you. His surfboard was discarded in the sand near him.