John stood up as the bus pulled away, looking out the window, keeping his eyes on the man. How many years had passed? His brain wouldn’t let him do the math, but he knew it was him. John was slack-jawed as he watched the man give up on the umbrella and toss it into the parking lot before slamming his car door shut. Yes. It was him. It was definitely him. Just as a million raindrops fell from the sky, there existed a million chances that John would go to the post office on the right day at the right time. A million to one, but he had done it.
