A keg party? Definitely not where I expected to find you this time. But there it is — the familiar bolt of recognition, followed by the bittersweet awareness that I am again (as always) a stranger to you.

The line of your shoulders, the brilliance of your smile — all remain unchanged, even with the red Solo cup in your hand. I would know you anywhere.

We came this close a long time ago. I tied my favor around the hilt of your sword, and you pressed my hand tenderly to your lips. You rode off in a clatter of steel and I waited hopefully for your return. They brought you on a bier. I cried harder than I had in centuries.

The last time was the worst. I was boarding the train and you stood on the platform. You looked so handsome in your uniform. Our eyes met for just a moment and I saw how much I disgusted you. Like many of the others, I keened the entire way to Buchenwald — they didn’t know I had a different reason.

Being cast out was our shared punishment. This endless search is mine to bear alone.