Esteban was there, standing about twenty
feet behind me. His dark hair was thick and longer than I
remembered. My eyes skimmed over it appreciatively, and somewhere
in my mind, I remembered touching it. We looked at each other, and
the look somehow bridged the gap. Even from the distance, I noticed
the area around his eyes looked haggard and showed that he had not
slept much, but his dark eyes were bright and I could tell that he
was glad to see me. He wore a stylish suit and a London Fog that I
remembered my father picking out for him not so many Christmases
ago. He raised his hand to me and called my name again.
“Peter!” he yelled.
I smiled, and then I ran to him. I didn't
know how alone I had felt on the plane ride until I reached him. He
grabbed me and pulled me close. I let my face fall onto his
shoulder. I enjoyed the feel of his arms surrounding me and pulling
me in. We stood there for a moment, both silent, breathing into
each other.