At my last appointment, the doctor said I could walk without the knee brace, but my stride is still tentative. I walk slowly to my computer and bring up my email account: junk mail, a short "Just to say hi" from one of the secretaries at the department, and a greeting from my mother asking when I'm visiting.

I almost miss it, but buried in the fifty plus emails is an urgent message from Nathanial. Nathanial Monroe. I stare at the name and my mind drifts back in ...