59 - A question of luck

MORGANA FOSTER

I try not to look like the most pathetic person in the world as I stare at him standing in front of me like a Roman god. Automatically, I feel my body tense up and swallow hard, admiring how well time has treated him. He looks like a more mature and serious man. He smells of coffee, menthol, and fresh orange. His gaze is firm and seductive, much sharper now. Mature and a little more captivating. Meanwhile, I must seem like the same simple and inexperienced girl he met in eighth grade, wearing jeans and band t-shirts.

"So, Morgana, how are you?" he says, running his hand through his hair and gazing into my eyes with the same charming smile of our youth.

"I'm fine," I reply, feeling myself burn under his gaze, "And how about you? I haven't seen you in so long."

"Yeah, four years!" he remarks with a tinge of sadness in his voice, and I feel my chest tighten. "Quite a long time, isn't it? What have you been up to?"

I nod and swallow a lump in my throat. I always knew I had h