Justin was coming out of the Starbucks on 10^th and Chestnut. A woman, walking quickly around the corner, bumped into him, spilling his coffee on her green scrubs.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Justin said.

“Damnit,” she said, wiping her pant leg. “No, no, don’t worry. It was my fault,” the woman said. She looked up and gasped. “Oh my god.”

Justin’s blue eyes opened wide. “Erin?”

“Justin,” she said. “Wow. It’s,” she paused. Her face was red, her hairline slightly moist with sweat. Her nose was small, her eyes large and deep brown. Her jaw line was fragile, her chin ending in a fine point. Her curly maple hair hung freely to her shoulder blades, covering her ears. She was still beautiful. “Wow, just wow,” she finally said, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he said. “I’m well,” he rolled his eyes, correcting himself. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’m over at Hahnamann, actually,” she said, motioning with her right arm towards Broad Street. Justin could see up her sleeve to the stubble on her underarm. There was a small damp spot on her shirt.

He smiled. His teeth were slightly yellow; he’d taken up smoking. His eyes, though, were still vibrant, the sun playing off them, making them change from blue to grey. He no longer wore glasses. His hair had been cut short and was just beginning to thin. “That’s great,” he said. “What are you doing over there?”

“School,” she said. “Still. Hopefully my last year.” Her chest heaved up and down, her breasts- bigger than he remembered- poked through the thin fabric of her shirt.

“That’s wonderful,” he said, wiping his palms on his jeans; they had started to sweat. “I’m happy for you.”

She smiled, the slight gap in her bottom front teeth visible. “What about you? What are you doing?”

“Uh,” he started. “I’m teaching. Substituting still, but I’m hoping to start full time somewhere next semester.”

“How’s the writing?” she asked.

He laughed, running a sweaty hand through his thinning hair. “It’s, well, it’s coming, I guess you could say. It’s coming along. I got one story published, oh god, maybe six months ago? But nothing more since that.”

“That’s great though,” she said, shifting weight from right foot to left.

“Not really,” he said. “It’s just a small journal.”

“Still. It’s a start.”

“It is,” he said. They stood for a moment without talking, smiling dumbly at one another. The silences were still the same. Beautiful.

“Look,” he said. “I’m heading down to Market Street. I don’t know where you’re going, but do you wanna walk with me for a minute or two?”

She smiled, flicking some lose hair away from her eyes and behind her ears. “Sure,” she said. “That’d be nice.”

They started walking, her on his right, like it’d always been. He moved the half empty coffee to his left hand. “So what else is new with you?” he asked. “Where are you living?”

“I’m in a place down on Sixth Street,” she said. “Just south of Federal.”

“I never thought you’d live in the city,” he said.

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” she glances at him sadly. “But I figure it’s only until winter, then I’ll be done with school and hopefully out of the city.”

“That’d be good,” he said.

“It would be. I dunno, it’s tough. I’m in a bit of a crisis, but no, I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

She looked at him again. “Not today,” she said.

“Ok.”

She smiled at something and it wasn’t anything he could touch or guess at. “What about you?” she said finally. “What’s new in your life?”

“Just trying to get by,” he said. “Trying to finish a novel.”

“That’s good.”

“It is.” He paused then. They were almost to Market Street. “I’m seeing someone, too,” he said. “For about six months now.”

“Really?” she said, her voice sinking, disappointed. “That’s wonderful, Justin. I’m really happy for you.”

“What about you? Still with Dean?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking away. “I am.”

“Wow,” he said. How long is that now? I mean, how long I guess since…” he trailed off as she looked over at him, her face stoic and lonely, thin lines appearing in the corners of her mouth.

“Almost a year and a half,” she said.

“Erin, that’s great. Really. He’s, uh, he’s a great guy I’m sure.” He took a sip of his coffee for the first time; it was lukewarm.

“He is,” she said. They came to Market Street and crossed it, stopping at the other side. She looked over her shoulder, following the cars towards City Hall. “Well,” she said. “I’m going that way.”

“And I’m going that way,” he turned east, towards Independence Mall and the river. She smiled and bit her lower lip. He looked down, trying to keep away a smile of his own. Finally, he looked up. “It was great seeing you Erin.”

“Yeah, you, too.” she said. They stood for a moment again in silence, and then he laughed and opened his arms and she leaned forward, wrapping hers around him. He worked his hand up her back, and for a moment touched her hair. He moved his head close to her neck, could smell her. She still wore the same perfume. She’ll wear that until the day she dies, he thought. He could not see, but she closed her eyes, fighting off tears. He let her go, and she opened her eyes, the white in them faintly bloodshot. “Well ok,” she said. “I’ve gotta get going.”

“Ok,” he said. “Bye, Erin.”

“Bye Justin.”

She turned to walk away and he watched her go. He opened his mouth to say something. “Erin,” he should have yelled. “How about coffee? Tomorrow maybe?” But he didn’t say anything. Near the corner, she turned, half looking over her shoulder. She waved. She should have stopped, walked backed to him and asked him to dinner. But she didn’t. He waved back and watched as she turned away. She paused for just a moment, slight enough that no one else would have noticed. Then she walked around the corner and out of sight.