This was her own decision, she reminded herself. She’d had a choice in whether or not to come. It hadn’t been foisted on her; she’d initially wanted to see them return home.

But now that she was there, standing on the cold stone platform, Karen was too anxious to even think logically. How would they react to her being there? Would they wonder why she’d waited for their arrival at the station? They were her parents, after all.

She hadn’t seen them for years – not since the tenth grade, when they’d decided to go abroad. Karen had not wanted to go; she didn’t want to leave her home or friends or school, and especially not her familiar, cozy little town. So they left her with a mutual friend – Karen’s godmother (practically her aunt, for all intents and purposes) and her family – and went off on their own adventure.

Karen wasn’t bitter; her parents had always talked about their future plans of traveling. She was happy that they were happy, but still. . . . Things got a little lonely every once and a while, even when she was immersed in the greeting card-like joyful chaos of her new “family.”

She pulled the collar of her cashmere sweater up to her chin, hugging her gray peacoat tighter to her body in order to stave off the brisk November wind. Things weren’t all bad, Karen thought. She had survived high school and was now a proud college girl. She even had a sweet and caring guy to call her own.

Karen heard the shrill whistle of the train in the distance, and her anxiety increased. Would they even recognize her? She bit her lip, now becoming truly terrified. It was then that she felt a hand grip her own.

She looked up, and he was there – that special someone. “Don’t worry,” Mark said. “Everything will be fine.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal – like it was an automatic truth. “I know.” Karen leaned into him and smiled, watching the train chug to a stop.