Re: Pizza at the Fill-up Station
It was weird how these things happened. Like getting deja vu, only you never got it once in a day. You got it that day, and then that evening, and again before you went to bed, like echoes. Grant got that feeling a lot less than most people, because his two lives, separated by decades in a dream, were so different and his memory was so good. Getting it now, after walking off the train and a conversation about the ghosts of his past, it made his guts turn cold.
Grant blinked at her across the threshold of her door, and it was safe to say he wasn't looking at the chandelier or the decor. His expression was one he had worn all too much lately: surprise, confusion, hope. Yet, unlike the ghost living in the forest with another man's name, that hope dissolved quickly. She wasn't the woman from his past, and the resemblance was passing. The amused smile was different, the eyes were a different color, even the way she stood and looked at him was different. The expression, the hope, the recognition, it all passed.
"Sorry. Hi. Sorry. I thought you were someone else for a second." Apologetic smile. "Hi. I'm Grant. We talked about pizza, and I deliver." The smile became less apologetic, and he offered the pizza over the threshold.