After five years, he just happened to be walking down her street?
He’d not noticed at first. He’d been following his feet.
As he rounded that familiar corner, passed McDonnell’s bakery, he realised he’d been footsore for a long time.
Your mind may wander on its own way. But feet, he thought, always want to bring you home.
What had been Bow’s Hardware shop was now a block of flats, but the creaking sign above of The Sailor’s Rest still rasped on its hinges.
By the time he saw number 15, with its blue door repainted red, he was running.