A Past that Belongs to

Her expectations are shattered when she discovers it is not a father or mother the one waiting at the counter, but a tall man with long, dark hair, and a scar that cuts across his right cheek up to his brow that reminds of angry ghosts. His crow black, notch-lapel cotton jacket stands out in the alabaster lighting of the room and the faded silver of her artifacts, and his irises are pure darkness scratching at doors in the night.“Finally, we meet.”