[That one. She can't explain the certainty she feels when his eyes meet hers. Does she know him? Maybe. There's something familiar about those blue eyes and the curve of his mouth, like a memory you're not sure is a memory at all.

But it's that mouth that stirs her to move -- carefully, her walk is fluid but unsteady -- and she makes it to the seat beside his. She'd had a mind to make her seat in his lap, but no matter. If she was more herself and could know him, she would say she's missed him. That she wanted to die when he did. Maybe even just hello.

As it is, her hello is putting her mouth to his, delivering a kiss like she's only given to one before, like her body remembers something her mind cannot.]