"What are you doing here, Marc?"

"I couldn't stay away."

"You've done just that for the past seven years."

"I know. Sorry I don't know. Is that how long it's been?"

"Are you okay?"

"I couldn't stay away. Once I remembered. Has it really been that long?"

"It's been awhile."

He thought about it. Seven years. It was actually not as long as he had thought it was. As distant as that life had felt. Hell he could get back to living that life today no problem. He tried to explain.

"I couldn't remember. Something happened with my head. That's why I left. I wouldn't have left if it were up to me."

"Who was it up to, if not yourself?"

There was no hope in explaining. He could barely make sense of it himself.

"Marc are you okay?"

The name was new to him. The faceless 

social media

tag of The Blue Man still felt more familiar. Still he looked at her and nodded.

A crashing came. In a moment, before any chance for reaction, a large man came in with earmuffs. Then Marc's ears were ringing. And he could see that those were not ear muffs but noise cancellers. And in the fat hands was a smoking gun. Marc didn't dare look down at the body that dropped to the floor.

The fat man looked at him for three seconds. Marc expected him to raise the 

gun

 at him and shoot. But he just stood there looking at him. And then he left. No words were exchanged.