My name is Mary, and I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his diploma on the wall, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I remembered a tall, dark-haired man from my past, someone I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.
Dr. William Harrison, the name on the diploma, sent my mind racing back to the summer of 2012. I was in my early twenties, a college student on summer break, and he was my sister Emily’s close friend. We’d often see him around our small, close-knit community. Bill, as he was called back then, had just graduated from dental school, and he was known for being charming, witty, and always ready with a smile.
Our paths had crossed one evening at a local café. I was there with Emily, sharing stories and laughter when Bill joined our table. Our easygoing conversation flowed effortlessly, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to his charismatic personality. He had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room, even in a crowded café.