A young man carried a basket filled to the brim with cheese, bread, fruit, and wine down a cobblestone street of a coastal city. Over his tanned skin, Emericus wore a shapeless, sun-bleached tunic of coarse cloth held together with a thin leather belt. His black eyes and sharp nose told the citizens he met that he hadn't been born in the city. His long, curly black hair, cut only when it became too long to handle, obscured his vision as a summer breeze reached him.

The street eventually leveled out and opened to the port. The stone under his torn sandals changed to wooden planks. It made his steps resonate as he moved along the water, letting the ships and seabirds distract him from the sway under his feet. He stayed out of the way of shippers and slaves as they loaded and unloaded their ships, careful to not cause a scene.

He walked up to a man about his age with darker skin than his own and tangled black hair tied loosely behind his back in a knot. He sat behind a cart with grey, brown, and red fishes placed to form a mosaic-like pattern.

When he saw Emericus approach, he rose and smoothed out his red-trimmed, white chiton that was fastened over one shoulder. "Hey! May I interest you in the fanciest fishes in the port?"

Emericus let his eyes glide over the smooth scales and yellow, button-sized eyes and smirked. "What makes you say that, except for the fact you've arranged them like a floor."

"A floor. Really?" The glint in the man's eyes betrayed the facade of indignation he put up for a moment. "I'm flattered."

Emericus couldn't help but smile. "I'll give you two coppers for those," he said, pointing at a pair with a red back and white belly the size of his underarm.

"You know as well as I that I could get the double." The man tightened the knot behind his neck. "But I'll sell them for three coppers if you can tell me the name of that beautiful mountain."

Emericus raised an eyebrow. "Deal. We call it Vesuvius. The legend goes that generations ago, Hercules fought the giants living in it. The traces of that fight are hidden under farms, olive trees, and vineyards, but a hero's deed is never forgotten."

Basil's eyes were wide. "That is so cool! I'd love to hear the full story! And also maybe see the mountain up close one day."

"It's a good story," Emericus said. "I wish I could go closer too, but yeah..."

"Maybe one day you'll have the time." He handed over a fish by its tail. "And what can I call you? I'm Bion."

"Emericus."

"I've never been to Pompeii before," Bion said. "Anything you'd recommend me seeing? Except for Vesuvius of course."

Emericus shrugged. "Sorry, but I wouldn't know. I hope you find a reason to stay, though. Speaking of, I should head back." He took a step back but stopped when Bion spoke again.

"I hope that too. It gets boring really fast to be out on the sea by myself all day. It's just me and Aquila." He pointed at a little sailing boat nestled between two larger ships. "My pride and joy."

Emericus's jaw dropped. "You own a boat?"

"It's as good as the only thing I own, but yes. Would you like to join me someday? I'd love the company."

Emericus eyed the boat from a comfortable distance. "I'd rather not, sorry. Thanks anyway."

"That's okay. Do you get seasick easily?"

"I'd rather not talk about it..."

"That's fine, I guess." Bion shrugged. "Maybe we could do something, sometime?"

"I don't know, maybe. Right now I really need to go home if I don't want any trouble. It's been great talking to you!"

"Likewise! I think I'll be here for a while so I hope I'll see you again."

"Sure!"

Finally! It had taken them two decades and crossing a sea but they had met again! Surely now they would be able to make up for the time they missed out on last lifetime. A fresh start and everything would be well.

Emericus hurried back up the street, weaving his way through pedestrians and carts. If he didn't get back soon, he'd have to explain what had taken him so long. He passed politicians who spoke highly of themselves and their merit. If he'd had more time he might have stopped to listen. A nearly forgotten memory thought it necessary, but he pressed on. Politics wouldn't do anything for him.

Upon reaching the front door, Emericus was sweating and panting. He took a moment to collect himself before sneaking inside. He tiptoed through a short hallway into the atrium, a big, square room at the center of the house. A rectangular opening in the ceiling let in light that reflected in the rectangular pool under it. He walked left over the floor laid with black, white, and red mosaic, through a hall with half red, half white walls divided horizontally and into the kitchen.

A pale, woman with light brown hair stood by the oven, cutting onions. "What took you so long?" She turned towards him and wiped her hands on her long, sun-bleached chiton.

"I'm sorry, Gaia. I was just slow."

"Alright, now come here," Gaia said and gave him a close embrace. "Now, I need you to wash these plates while I prepare those fine fishes."

Emericus did as he was told and continued with cleaning the atrium. Melodies from a double flute exchanged one another as he swept the floor. The wide front doors stood open, allowing wind and a steady stream of his master's visitors to bring dust and dirt in from the sun-soaked streets. He twirled around with the brush, led by the music and fueled by his fight against boredom. I joined in, of course. Together we made our existence just a little more enjoyable.

A particularly cheerful melody was restarted multiple times, each segment longer than the last. Soon, we hummed along as he worked.

With red knees, Emericus rose from the floor after removing a particularly stubborn wine stain. He inched closer to the room from which the music came and peeked inside. A young woman dressed in light blue and pink sat on a pillow on the floor facing the door with a double flute in hand. Her brown hair was held in place by a golden ribbon and her eyes were closed in concentration.

"Ptss, Lysandra," Emericus whispered. "Can I come in?"

Lysandra finished the melody before looking up. "Sure. Close the door."

Emericus did as told and sat down on the bare floor with crossed legs. "I haven't heard that song before. It's beautiful."

Lysandra lit up with pride. "Thank you! But it's not complete yet. I want to add a dramatic ending." She put the instrument away. "So, how was your day? Have you met anyone interesting?"

Instead of answering Lysandra with an exaggeration of something he'd seen or a downright lie, like he normally did to bring her some excitement, a smile crept upon him. "Actually, yes..."

"Really? Well, go on then. Tell me about them!"

"I met someone at the port. He seemed incredibly familiar, but he said he'd never been here before. He was, hmm, well, chatty and he owned a boat and he had this... nice smile."

"Oooh! Was he cute?" Lysandra was now laying on the floor with her head in her hands. "You're blushing! He was!"

"I didn't say anything!" Emericus tried to hide his burning face in his hands, but even his hairline had turned red.

"So? What's his name?"

Emericus mumbled into his hands and Lysandra grasped his wrists and moved them away.

"Bion," he repeated, fighting against a smile. For a moment it seemed he succeeded, but the smile was gone from his eyes too. "Please don't say anything to your father."

"Why would I? Then I'd have no chance of meeting this Bion." Lysandra sat back up. "You should go see him tomorrow, make him feel welcome, you know."

Emericus smirked. "I was already going to, but now that you said it..." 

Lysandra laughed and threw a pillow at him.