Day four of a new town. A new apartment. A new life. The July sun beat down as I searched for my reading tree. Kids hung from the shiny playground equipment, one yelled "woodchips!" and the rest scattered, laughing. A mom with a stroller sat nearby, phone in hand, thumb absentmindedly swiping up and down. He was sitting two benches down, staring at me as I watched the children. He called my name tentatively and my eyes jerked to meet his. With a smile, he motioned me over and I obeyed.

"So we meet again, tree-girl."

I laughed against my will. "So we have."

"I'm Morpheus," he held out his hand, "we were never officially introduced."

I shook his hand. It was cool to the touch.

He patted the bench next to him and I sat, holding my book tight across my lap.

He laughed, "I don't bite."

"With weirdos, you never know."

He sighed. "Let me get to know you, I want to."

I took a moment to just look at him. He was still wearing that ridiculous black trench coat. It tied loosely around his waist and reached down to his knees, obscuring khakis and a sky blue shirt. His skin was like watery milk, somehow cloudy and youthful and wrong. And his eyes, they were pale green, kind and sad. His smile held the promise of more.

"Ask me tomorrow."

I only glanced back once as I walked away; he looked stunned but happy.