Tallulah Falls, Georgia. Winter 2005.

The nipping cold should’ve been a sign to him that something odd was afoot. Something troublesome. But Daryl wasn’t some shrink. He simply bundled up in the ratty old coat his father owned and exited the Dixon household without a single word to his brother.

He’d found himself in town for once. Living up in the mountains was what Daryl and his older brother preferred opposed to feeling the inquiring glowers of the townsfolk. He loathed them all. And he made that abundantly clear with the plain attitude he displayed.

Winters in this place were hell, oddly enough. In what world did it hit below 20 in the humid state of Georgia? This world, it seemed. And Daryl felt the urge to mutter a complaint as he trudged down the salted pavement of the sidewalk when a person’s sudden appearance caught him off guard.

“Daryl…?” An unfamiliar tenderness fluttered in their voice. But what was familiar was those eyes. That smile. You. The man stood stock-still in your presence, question filling his gaze. How long had it been exactly? Years?….Decades?…