His name was Aaron. His hair was red-blonde. He belonged to her twenty-third year.

She wonders if the years have much changed him, if the autumn leaf hair has turned gray. She fingers the pearls at her throat, the ones that he gave her that day. They catch the shallow sun rays, reflect them into forever reflection and for an instant he is there with her, then gone.

The smile unrolls on her face. The moment has flown back into time. Quivering fingers release their grip, slide down to her side. She wonders now if he wonders at all about her.