The last time I saw my first love was on my 17th birthday—thirty years later, a woman who looked exactly like her stepped into my yard

noise doing its job.

That’s when I heard the side gate.

I killed the engine and turned around, already irritated.

Then I stopped.

A young woman was standing at the edge of my yard.

My brain did something it has never done before and hasn’t done since. It stopped mid-process. Stopped reasoning, comparing, cataloguing, and simply handed me one raw, impossible continue reading …