Winter had long ago bid its farewell with a final biting kiss to his nose, cheeks, and ears, but spring showers could never wash away the remaining salt littering the streets. Theodore wove around the constellation of crushed salt, its residues like dried explosions splattered on the cold pavement, and he dared to admit to himself that he didn't miss the snow. A gale burst forth, neither icy or balmy, but shudders zipped along his spine. Briefly wondering if he could be carried in the wind with the amount vigorously blasting up his worn parka, he continued to tread along and around the broken salts. Theodore would meet her halfway, that's what they promised, and he knew she would be standing on the other side of the catwalk, futility taming the short curls wild about her face. He continued along the slope of the vibrating bridge above the bolting cars below, and suddenly he saw her and she saw him and they were both seeing each other.

A moment of reverie took hold of him— Theodore was fairly plump as a five-year-old, still with baby-fat, but rupturing with riotous energy. He saw her across the catwalk in the dying winter, hand-in-hand with her mother (the boy went through a phase of having a puppy-crush on the chocolate crowned woman with kind eyes who offered her mouth-watering, homemade muffins), and was immediately drawn to the green of her eyes. They weren't particularly stunning, nothing close to the cliché eyes in romance novels, but there was something about them, something in those vivid irises that had him pausing in his trek and compelled to stare. His mother scolded him for his lack of manners, but even when she sharply pinched the cartilage of his ear, Theodore refused to look away. The girl blinked slowly, naturally attaching closer to her mother.

Flashing his signature megawatt smile, which she shied away from, he bound towards the girl, her short curls wild about her face, and gave his name to her. She hid behind her mother's legs, attempting to shield herself within the flowing dress. Her mother encouraged her forth with a tender touch to the curls upon her head. Her eyes, downcast after seeing him smile, lifted; gray clashed with green in a violent, sparking collision that paused their world. She smiled demurely, waved daintily, and peered up from beneath the lush, dark frame of her eyelashes, and he was lost. Her eyes were the dewy meadows before sunrise, the mossy green conquering still boulders, the verdant in flourishing spring, and he fell in love. They weren't emeralds, weren't jades, weren't sharp green, they were rather plain, but Theodore saw the life in them. That day he learned her name was Cecilia. He became attached to the girl, dragging her along everywhere (one would think their hands were glued together), sharing everything and nothing, and loving her as no one could.

Here they stood before the other, seeking themselves in the depths that were the bonds to their souls. Theodore hadn't realized the bitterness of loss choking him the long years she was gone until he had her within his sights. They took time to soak in the changes noticed on the other, comparing from then and now, and realizing both had not truly changed. Cecilia's eyes could still hook him in with a mere glance and Theodore still couldn't rid of his habit of automatically reaching for her hand just for the sake of contact. He needed the tangible proof that she wasn't a figment of his imagination, and when he felt her familiar warmth he knew she was there with him. For a moment they breathed each other in before Theodore lost all restraint and pulled her into him, the stars colliding.

Their arms became iron bands that curled around the other, refusing to be merciful. He greedily took in her scent, her air, her being, and she did the same, and they both knew they were home.