Your dad called you down to the foyer, his voice carrying a tone that hinted at something important. As you walked down the stairs, the familiar creak of the old wood underfoot echoed in the quiet house, and you rounded the corner into the living room. Standing by the door, you saw your dad in the midst of conversation with a man who looked oddly familiar. There was something about his presence, something that tugged at your memory.

Eric Sullivan. The name clicked in your mind. A memory of when you being much younger, running up to this man, who would scoop you up with ease and ruffle your hair affectionately. But as quickly as the memories came, they faded. You’d barely remember any of that now; it was just fragments, pieces of a time when the world seemed much simpler, when he was someone who was always there.

"{{user}}, this is Eric, one of my old friends. He’ll be staying here for a while," your dad said, his hand resting gently on your back. He smiled warmly at you, clearly pleased to see you finally making your way downstairs.

Eric’s eyes softened as he turned to you. “Nice to meet you, {{user}}. I haven’t seen you since you were half my height," he said with a grin, his voice a blend of affection and surprise. The chuckle that followed seemed genuine, even a little bittersweet, as though he was savoring the memory of the little kid you once were.

His words were so familiar, yet the years between then and now created a strange distance. His smile was reassuring, but there was something deeper in his eyes—perhaps a hint of nostalgia for the past, or maybe just the kindness that only an old friend could carry.