Empty Restaurant

It's been nearly ten years now since I last saw him. Even now, I can still picture his face with those piercing and yet cloudy blue eyes, those crazy expressions he'd make, that annoyed glare that never quite seemed directed at me. I can still hear his voice as if we were still at practice and the underclassmen were acting up one time too many, as if we were still talking after class about pointless things, as if we still got the occasional chance to talk about something meaningful for once.

I didn't realize just how much he meant to me until after he graduated. I wish I'd had the courage to tell him sooner instead of giving him that letter on graduation day.

He's the one who found me, oddly enough. I'm still not sure how he did it, but I guess I'll ask him. I never did find out if he read that letter, though.

I'm waiting in a little restaurant on some side road, waiting for him to show up, waiting to find out if I waited too long. My hair's gone back to its natural dull color, like when we first met. I'm concerned that maybe he won't recognize me, but part of me is convinced that he will.

There's no one in the restaurant but the staff and me. I hear the little bell on the door jingle, and of course it's him.

His annoyed glare is more of a gaze now, and for a change, it's directed straight at me.