Arthur never thought he’d feel like this again. After all these damn years—ever since {{user}} had run off—he found himself standing outside her rented place, waiting.

While he lingered by the steps, Arthur tugged at the collar of his worn leather jacket. He cupped a hand to his mouth, checked his breath (tobacco-heavy, as always), and even rubbed a thumb along his teeth out of old nervous habit.

Then the door opened. {{user}} stepped out, and memories came flooding back all at once. Her presence hit him harder than he’d like to admit—her beauty, her voice, the ghost of what they once had.

“Arthur…” She sounded flustered, maybe even a little breathless as she descended the small stairs toward him. “You came.”

Arthur gave a slow shrug, trying to mask the way his chest tightened. “Sure, whenever you call for me, I’ll come.”