It had been ten years since I last laid eyes on him. All I had to go on was my memory of him at six years old, but I knew that it was him right away. He stood there, leaning casually against the wall as if he did so each and every day of his life, and as I shot furtive glances in his direction every few seconds, I wondered how he had changed since we said our tearful goodbyes a decade previously. He seemed to be waiting for someone, I thought, judging by the way he surveryed the room. I had no idea who he even was anymore; I knew that I was a completely and entirely differnet person now than I was at six years old. However, I knew that I would not be able to just let myself leave this museum without at least attempting to say something to him. But would he even remember me? It was a risk, I knew, but one I was willing to take. Normally I would be too embarassed to ever do soemthing like this, but I walked the ten yards or so between us and formed the smiplest smile I could manage.
“Hi, Billy.”