He should know this time, this place and all the things in it and is almost certain that just beyond the window is a garden neatly packed with flowers. Yet it has all collapsed into uncertainty and he falls into the strange and lonely abyss where anxiety churns his stomach and steals away his appetite.
He might cry, unsure that he could stop the tears even though it feels wrong, unseemly, his pride unable to hold back the need. That too, lost temporarily.
“Are you alright?” She steps forward, her hand outstretched to smear comfort on his arm and soothe his tears falling over fragile skin.
Her eyes are soft just as he remembers, panic falling into confusion as the years fall together into a tangled mass. She is crying too, holding back the tears behind a red rimmed and glossy sheen. The feeling, it seems has become infectious, endlessly stretching outward like his childhood garden under a sky that is no longer blue.