Hansen just stood there. He didn't blink, didn't move, just gaped like he'd walked into the wrong apartment and found a stranger living in Amara's skin. The hallway light cast jittery shadows across his face. He looked... small. Not physically, because Hansen had always been sturdy, but standing there in his rumpled denim jacket with the scent of cheap coffee and Sunday afternoon rain clinging to him, he looked like a relic.
"Amara?" he finally managed. The word sounded thin, like it was being squeezed out of him. "I... I mean, I know I just dropped by, but… wow."
Amara felt a frantic heat crawl up her neck. She felt ridiculous. No, worse than ridiculous, she felt like a fraud caught in the act. "Hansen! What are you doing here? I thought you were... well, I didn't think you'd be back so soon."
