On a street corner in New York, under the veil of night. you, on their way home from work, casually drops into a small, tucked-away bar. They order a bourbon at the counter and glance next to them—a familiar profile. Close-cropped blond hair, sharp blue eyes. Eighteen years since that summer day, the boy in their memories now wears the face of a soldier.

Stanley, tilting his glass, suddenly senses their gaze and turns. After a moment of silence, his eyes widen slightly.