Simon.

“Please excuse the route changes due to street closures; thank you for your patience,” the sign read.

He sat waiting for a notification on his old, cracked-screen cell phone—a habit he’d developed. He’d turn it on, unlock it, and scan through dozens of useless alerts, searching for something. Disappointed not to find what he was hoping for, he switched it off and rested his arm against the window, letting out a soft sigh. It wasn’t over yet; there was still one thing left to verify. But he had to be patient.

He gazed out at the metropolitan landscape—more chaotic than usual—though his memory still held images of the cold, gray streets from just a few weeks prior, now overlaid by the celebrations he was witnessing. He caught glimpses of people’s joy—the embraces, the cheers, the tears—but he looked away, resigned to the fact that he could not share in that jubilation.

“Only three stops left,” he thought, as the bus came to an abrupt halt to let out some of the passengers packed tightly together. The air inside the vehicle grew a little less stifling.

Stepping off, he began to walk at a brisk pace, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He navigated the crowded streets, careful to avoid bumping into the throngs of people.

His only goal was to arrive.

He tried to clear his mind of any false hopes. With his thoughts blank, he walked one last block and stopped.

Right in front of his home’s mailbox.

He reached out instinctively, then hesitated. Gathering his resolve, he quickly opened it—and there it was.

A letter.

He took it slowly, holding it with both hands.

“I hope… I hope it’s not another bill… please.”

He turned the envelope over to check the sender.

And the moment he read it, he took off running.

Because, perhaps… he would see him again.

Perhaps. He would see his brother again. And he wasn’t going to wait any longer.