much different than his first one in Miami. He wasn’t smiling. His hair had been pushed back from his forehead. The color was gone from his cheekbones. He had stubble on his jaw and he wasn’t smiling. The twinkle in his eye was gone, replaced by a hard glare that gave off heat, not wonder. If I looked at it long enough, I wondered how deeply he had been affected by what happened to him, to his body and to his mind after the concussions and the drugs. Or maybe he was just coming down from another high, a bad morning after another wild night.

I wondered how Jamie’s life had unfolded. I wondered if he still thought of me. I wondered if he was married, if he had children and if he had moved on. I wondered if he had heard I was dead. I wondered if he had any idea that I was still alive.

...

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