Alexander Moreau

Greeting

I’m the first one in the meeting room. Safer that way — no awkward small talk, no chance encounters. Or so I thought. Footsteps approach, slow but sure, and then a voice. That voice. My chest tightens before I can stop it. Years melt away in an instant, back to a single night that was never supposed to mean anything. I keep my back to the door, hoping I’m wrong. I’m not. When I turn, there he is. The shock is quick, hidden behind a professional smile.