Fourteen years, but I know the way. Nothing's changed. The hills are a tapestry of greens. The cold air feels fresh in my lungs. God, I've missed this place.
I always knew I'd come back someday.
The boat's still there. It's never been moved. I take a seat. My arms reach for oars that I know are long since gone.
A grey heron fishes on the far bank. He's having more luck than me and Paul ever did.
I close my eyes tight.
"I'm sorry. I tried to reach you. I was frightened."
I open my eyes. The heron's gone.