Years passed, alone.
There was a tune in the forest. Filling the air with its vibrating, metal sound. With its light, buzzing noise.
There was a crinkling of worn paper.
Lightning bugs lit the dark air, floating and fading and flashing, and stars filled the sky like pins of sunlight, falling.
The air was fresher than other towns.
And with every breeze, the trees ruffled and shook and messed his hair.
And in the woods, Tom felt a peace he hadn't felt in months. Years.
He was home again.
Through the falling dark, through the fading lightning bugs and the stars, Tom walked.
His feet took him through the woods of his childhood. And he could hear a shuffling, a breath. His heart was filled and alight and alive, all at once.
Suddenly he felt a turning within himself. And suddenly he could see flashes of skin. Eyes, stars, arms. Dawn rose in seconds. He felt himself bump into something harshly, quickly.
A paper fluttered to the ground.
A harmonica thudded, falling down against the dirt.
Even after yearsâEven through this darkâthey recognized each other.
The air was shaking. Fireflies, lightning bugs, glowed in a green-yellow way, streaking like rain.
"Huck?"
"Tom."