Oscar was headed to work, when he saw a woman struggling with a suitcase. He was normally kind about helping women, but this woman in particular had caught his attention for reasons he could not identify. She was curvaceous and well-dressed, and as he approached her there was a bit of deja vu. Something about her scent…
“Can I help you?” he inquired.
When the woman tuned around with a smile, he froze.
He nodded, since he was rendered mute.
She looked at him and when she let go of the bag, he could not let go of the sight of her. She was in a tailored suit that showed off all of her curves—each curve he knew. He remembered what she felt like the way that you never forget how to play an instrument. He knew exactly where he could touch her to change the expression on her face.
And he knew she could do the same to him.
She held her arms open, and Oscar was afraid to touch her. He was afraid if he did what would jar his memory. He had talked about her hypothetically with Eliza, but he never imagined that he would see her again.
He pulled her into his arms, and pressed his face to her hair.
“How have you been?” she asked, as they pulled away.
“Good,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I was just talking about you to someone. Saying what a mess I was before I met you.”
“You were never a mess Oscar, just young. I was young too then, I’m not like that anymore.”
“Are you coming or going?” He gestured toward her suitcase.
“Coming,” she smiled.
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