I don’t know how he knows. How, after so many, many years apart, he can instantly read my shift in mood. The heaviness in my bones. The hurt inside my soul. I don’t know how he knows that one glimpse of those dimples and the flash of those eyes—blue like the ocean water I haven’t felt in far too long—is enough to settle the raging storm in my body. But somehow, he does. So, when I smile back at him, it doesn’t feel forced at all.
