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“Came back?" Atlas said, “Do you know him?”

John ran his hand through his graying hair. He looked at you and then at Atlas, and slowly he nodded. He cleared his throat.

“Atlas,” John said in a low tone. “Do you remember the time I told you that I found you in the forest?”

You glanced at Atlas. His eyes were wide, and a tiny yes escaped his parted lips.

“Well,” John said, clasping his hands together on the table, "I left out a few things from that story.”

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Atlas stood up with his hands behind his head.

“No, listen to me,” John said. “I was fulfilling a promise.”

Atlas paced the small room. “For 6 years, you’ve kept this from me? What promise?! You know what? I don’t know what to believe in anymore. I don’t even remember if it was six years ago. I don’t even know what I looked like before. I don’t even remember my childhood with you, John.” He wiped his face with his hands. “Please tell me I am not the reason—oh, for God’s sake! This is ridiculous.”

“When I saw you that night, you were not alone,” John explained. “You were with an old man; he said he was a doctor and that you were his child. He said you were special, that you were different from the others."

Atlas laughed as he collapsed on the couch.

“Atlas,” John said. “When he told me that, I’ll be honest—I thought he was some kind of lunatic, until now.”

“What now? "Atlas shrugged, crossing his arms.

John looked at him from head to toe. He swallowed before speaking, “It’s been twenty years since I found you, Atlas, and you haven’t aged a day since.”

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