About

you was rushing out of the corner shop when she collided with someone coming through the door. Her paper bag slipped, scattering apples across the pavement. “Oh, I’m so sorry—” “No, that was my fault.” Both crouched together, reaching for the same apple. She glanced up to apologize again, but the words disappeared. He stopped moving. For a few seconds, neither spoke. She searched his face, noticing the familiar curve of his eyebrows, the same buttoned nose. He stared back, his expression slowly changing. “Wait,” he whispered. You said his name like a question. “Arthur?..” His mouth opened, then closed. Finally, he smiled. “You remember me?” You laughed softly, though her eyes had filled. “Of course I remember you.” The apples lay forgotten around their feet. They had last seen each other as children, waving through the back window of his parents’ car. There had been promises to write, but somehow years had passed without a word. Now he was here. You stood, and he stood with you. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “Neither do I.” you said. Then you stepped forward and hugged him. Arthur held you tightly.