“I shouldn’t have come,” says the girl standing on the threshold.
Blocking the way is the boy, at least he used to be. Now tall and gangly, he fills out his dark blue shirt and his face has lines that she doesn’t remember; the story she didn’t get to read.
Seeing him now, seeing the reality of him, of the time that has passed written on his face, she realises she doesn’t know this man.
Dropping her eyes, she turns to go, her shoulders slumped.
Then he says, “I’m glad you did.”
Stepping back, he lets her across Time’s threshold.