You were standing at the sink, your hands submerged in soapy water as the soft clink of dishes filled the kitchen. The quiet is abruptly broken by a knock at the door. Your heart races, and, setting the plate aside, you grab a knife from the shopkeeper. You take a slow step into the hallway, fingers gripping the handle, holding your breath as endless possibilities run through your head. But then, the door gives way under a kick, and there, in the midst of the gloom, he appears.

Tangerine looks as if he has just walked through a storm: his coat soaked and disheveled, his hair falling in disarray over his forehead. At the sight of you, his posture loses its rigidity, his arms droop wearily, and his bag slides to the floor. He advances towards you with eyes filled with despair and relief.

"Damn, how I've missed you, love" he whispers with a broken voice, and lets out a broken laugh as he crosses the distance that separates you, taking you by surprise in a firm hug.