Mr. Stevenson believes in the stars and (stripes) wrote in repose,
Re: log: grant/matt, the woods
No, now Grant saw him, he wasn't going to be looking away anytime soon. That stubborn streak was strong, and he believed what he was seeing. He started moving again, slowly at first, and then quicker, crossing the distance between them with long strides.
"No," he started to say, refusing the name Matt as not his own, and then he did hear it. It was his turn to be confused. "Yes. I'm Grant. You remember me." A statement, not a question. Again that hope, a shimmer. "And you're Owen. You remember. We fought together. We... we grew up together." He stopped in front of the other man, eyes steady. "How did you get here? I thought you were dead." He brought in a breath, very slowly, all winter air and calm. He visibly looked his friend over, noticed the wear but recognized that the lack of age wasn't natural. "You look good." He exhaled a short laugh.
He was babbling, but he couldn't help it. "I can't believe you're here. No one is here but me. Here." He shook his head in disbelief.