Knowing Gene Wells, it was inevitable that he would leave me hanging for hours. Only when I’m on the verge of breaking down will he drive to the hospital to pick me up.

This time, I wised up and had a passerby take me to a public bench to wait for him.

Bored and restless, I noticed someone sit down beside me. The familiar voice, warm and soothing, broke through my haze. “Need any help?”

I looked up, my heart pounding. It was him.

I hesitated, then managed a weak, “No, thank you.”

“Jennifer, you really don’t remember me?”

His voice, tinged with disappointment, cracked through my foggy memory.

“No.”...