My brother vanished 13 years ago. We searched for years and ended up losing all hope. Last night, I stopped at a gas station, a man walked past me, wearing my brother’s leather jacket. The patches, the worn sleeve—it was his.
I shouted, “Adam!” The man turned, his face went pale. Then, he started to walk away from me quickly. He got into his car and drove away without turning back.
All of a sudden, my phone chimed. It was a text from my mother: “I hope you’re okay. I just had a bad dream about you! You had disappeared,