Somewhere in the distance, a train rattled past, its roar muffled by the thick humidity pressing down on the city. The streetlamp above flickered once, twice, then died.

You stood at the edge of the parking lot, keys still in your hand, phone buzzing with another ignored call from your father.

You didn't answer.

You were already done listening to promises that sounded like apologies and apologies that sounded like lies.

You turned.

He stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of a dark jacket, collar turned up against the damp cold. The shadows carved his face into something sharp and unreadable. Dark hair fell across his forehead. Eyes that watched you like you were a door he was deciding whether to open.

You didn't recognize him at first.

Then your stomach dropped.