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You ran to him.

“Lone man…” you said, and then stopped a few meters away from him.

The man turned to you. He was clutching a messy bouquet of wildflowers in one hand. He stared through you as if you weren't there—or as if he were in a trance.

“Lucian?”

His big brown eyes refocused. And when he realized who he was looking at, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Lone man caressed your hair as he breathed heavily.

“You’re alive!” Both of you said at the same time.

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He smiled at you weakly and then gave you the flowers.

“It’s nothing special, really,” he said. “I-I picked it up on my way here. I’m glad you never left. I’m glad you are safe. I’m glad you’re here,” he hugged you again. “These are fresh flowers. You can put it in a vase, or you can preserve them; maybe put them in between the pages of a book,” he scratched the back of his head. “Or you can throw it away…”

“No! I would never do that.”

Lone man’s worried eyes softened. He smiled at you. “I’m glad you like it.”

You reached out and touched his brown hair. You pressed your palm on the side of his face. His skin is pale, soft, and warm. He has light freckles spread over his nose and cheeks. Lone man closed his eyes as he held your hand to the side of his face.

“I want to stay like this forever,” Lone man mumbled. “I’ve lived for almost a century, and this moment right now is the one I love the most.”

Lone man opened his eyes. “Can you please stay with me for a few minutes?”

———

“Yes.” — Page 382