I Moved On, Right?

Numbers never forgotten

It was a typical Friday evening, and I was at a quiet bookstore near our apartment. I needed a break—a moment of solitude after a week of appointments and emotional exhaustion. Pearl went to visit her family for the day.

As I wandered through the aisles, my fingers lightly grazing the spines of books, I heard someone call my name.

"Vera?"

The voice was familiar, yet unexpected, and it made my heart skip a beat. I turned, and there he was. Stan.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw him. He looked the same yet different—taller, more mature, with a calm confidence that hadn’t been there before. His warm brown eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like time had rewound seven years.

"Stan," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, the same smile that used to make my heart flutter. "Wow, it’s really you. I almost thought I was imagining things."

I managed a small smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions surging inside me. "It’s been a long time."

"Seven years," he said, stepping closer. "Not that I was counting or anything."

His playful tone made me chuckle nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"Just in town for work. Saw this bookstore and decided to see some books." he said, his gaze softening. "How have you been?"

"You and books, that's an odd combination." I replied, teasingly.

Stan laughed, his easygoing demeanor instantly making the moment feel less awkward. "I know, right? But it felt right at the time. Guess I’ve changed a bit too. Well what do you do now?"

I nodded, still trying to process the surprise of seeing him after so many years. "Yeah. I'm a psychologist now. It’s… it's good to see you."

Stan's eye's widened slightly, an impressed smile spreading across his face. "A psychologist? Wow that's amazing."

A brief silence hung between us as we both glanced around the bookstore, unsure of what to say next. Stan seemed to read the tension in the air, offering a comforting smile.

"How about a coffee?" he suggested. "I know a place nearby. I can’t promise you the best coffee in the world, but it tastes good."

I hesitated, a part of me wanting to stay in my comfortable bubble of solitude, but another part of me—the part that had missed him so much in those years—felt drawn to the idea. The thought of sitting down and talking, catching up on all those lost years, felt oddly comforting.

"Umm.... I actually have some work to do. Maybe next time if possible." I said.

Stan's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it with a nod of understanding. "Of course, I get it," he said, his tone light. "Busy as always, huh? Some things never change."

I offered a small smile in return, clutching the book in my hand a little tighter. "Yeah, you know how it is."

He shifted his weight slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets. For a moment, he looked as if he were debating something. Then, with a soft chuckle, he spoke. "Well, since we're both here now, how about this—why don't we exchange numbers? No pressure or anything. Just in case you ever feel like grabbing that coffee or... catching up sometime."

I hesitated, but there was an undeniable warmth in Stan’s tone, a sincerity that made it hard to say no.

"Okay," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.