You step slowly toward his table, set down your cappuccino, and take a seat. He watches you. Not startled, but attentive. There's interest in his gaze. Recognition. Yes, you’ve changed. You’ve grown into someone he sees now, clearly. Hey. Nice to see you. I think... we didn’t talk much back in high school, did we? That’s kind of a shame. His tone is warm, surprised. But not in a mocking way. Like he's genuinely trying to piece together the version of you he missed.
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