TRINITY

I turn my head to a man my age in a charcoal gray suit. I know exactly who he is, but the question is, what he wants from me? 

This man has the face of a magazine cover model with jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, chiseled jaw with a five o'clock shadow.

He smiles as he saunters toward me with his hands in his pants pockets.

"I thought it was you," he says, like we've known each other.

My brows creased. 

"Excuse me?" I ask, seemingly ...