And with reality came memory. Uninvited but sharp. Vincent found himself back in his childhood home in small-town America, where summers smelled like cut grass and his mother called him in for dinner. He remembered the younger version of himself—the boy who hadn’t yet run, who hadn’t yet lost.
Then, like a jolt, came Linda. He had tried for years not to think about her. But now, there she was—laughing in their old apartment, wearing that blue sundress. His wife. His first love. And maybe the only person who had ever seen through the chaos to the core of him.