The knock echoed across the quiet room, Ryan wasn't expecting anyone. He stood, grabbing his bottle of whiskey, dusting crumbs of snacks off his shirt.
He opened the door—and time stopped.
There stood Marcel. His father.
Alive, free and unannounced.
"Hello, son." Marcel smiled.
Ryan's fingers loosened against the doorknob. He didn't move, he couldn't.
Marcel tilted his head. "You gonna invite me in or keep gawking like you've seen a ghost?"
Ryan still didn't speak.
His father gave a tired chuckle. "Seriously, what is it with people today? That's the third wide-eyed stare I've gotten."
He brushed past Ryan and stepped inside like he owned the place.
"Nice place," he said, glancing around. "Could use some music, though. Or a dog."
Ryan turned slowly. "How... How is this possible?"
