He’s sitting in my seat and staring right at me with those achingly familiar brown eyes of his, so dark they’re almost black. He’s older now, with a dark beard, and he’s so broad-shouldered and Herculean that he barely fits in the desk. But it’s him. It’s him. He came back to me. “Oh my God,” I say softly, my hand at my lips. Just then, I feel Crane come up behind me and hear his sharp inhale. “Abe?” Crane whispers, a gasp. I twist around to glance at Crane over my shoulder, his eyes focused on Brom too, a look of utter shock on his face. Abe? I think. Who is Abe? I look back to Brom, but he’s
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