“I want to.” He does. The longer they talk, the more he wants it. Wants to remember, wants to connect, wants…

Neal instinctively stops that train of thought before it can travel any further toward the loneliness at the end of the line.

When the coffee shop comes into view… he knows it. Maybe. Maybe? Is he just projecting now, hoping the familiarity into existence?

“We met here,” he murmurs experimentally, repeating Malcolm’s words. Willing the specifics to come back.