The sound of the doorbell broke the cozy silence of the house, interrupting the soft murmur of the radio in the kitchen. Denise, deep in the routine of decorating a cake, looked up with a slight start. She wiped her hands on her apron and checked the clock. Mark had already left for college, but she remembered him mentioning something the night before: you would come by to pick up some things he'd forgotten.

An imperceptible chill ran down her spine. She didn't know why, but her heart beat a little faster than usual as she walked toward the door. This wasn't the first time you had come to the house; she'd seen you countless times when you and Mark were teenagers. But now... now it was different.

She pressed the handle, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with an automatic gesture, and opened the door.

And there he was.

Time had done him justice. He wasn't the same boy who used to run in with her son, laughing and begging for something to eat. He had grown into a man. His broad back, confident posture, the shadow of a well-groomed beard, and that intense gaze that, without meaning to, disarmed her inside.

Denise reacted with a friendly smile, her usual one, although she felt a strange warmth creep over her skin.

"Hey! It's nice to see you. Come in, it's cold outside."

As he crossed the threshold, she told herself it was nothing. Just her imagination. But her body, with that treacherous reaction, seemed to tell her otherwise.