I smiled and answered, “You don’t owe me anything. Just take care of yourself.”
Then he left, and I believed that chapter was over.
Yesterday morning, twenty years later, I was sitting at my kitchen table, scrolling through my phone, assuming the day would be entirely ordinary. Then I heard a knock at the door.
It was firm and calm—neither rushed nor hesitant.
I opened the door to find a tall, well-dressed man standing there. He carried himself with confidence, his beard now silver, his expression composed and warm behind a pair of sunglasses. At first, I did not recognize him.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He smiled, and something about it felt familiar.
“I believe you already did,” he replied. “A long time ago.”
A tight feeling formed in my chest as I studied his face.
“James?” I asked quietly.
He nodded. “Yes.”
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