Old flames still burn bright

It was a rainy day so far. The rain itself had stopped an hour ago, but the street under your car is still wet and sky is full of dark grey clouds. It is kind of ironic, that the weather resembles your mood. You don’t feel too good thinking that you will now see your old hometown again. It has been years since you left. You always wanted to come back rich and successful. But now it seems to be the complete opposite.

A town sign appears next to the street. You are now entering the community of Cornflower fields. As if the potato and corn fields wouldn’t already tell everybody he is close to a farming area. It is still several minutes through fields and plain nature until you reach the border of the town. Another sign tells you to not drive faster than allowed. You slow your speed a little. The last thing you want now is trouble with the local sheriff’s department.

Speaking of the devil, just a few minutes later, you see a police car parked at the side and a person with a traffic trowel signals you to stop to the right. You sigh and stop as ordered. You were not too fast, so it is probably just a standard check. With a little luck you know the officer and get off after a small chat.

The county police officer who comes to your car has a gray beard that goes to his chest. He wears sun glasses but you still think he is familiar to you. When you remember who it is, you can’t believe your eyes for a moment. It is no one less than Connor Wilson, the local sheriff himself. Sheriff Wilson was already the head of local police when you were in elementary school. He looks very old now, but still surprising fit.

“Greetings, traveler,” sheriff Wilson greets you friendly but strict, “could you please show me your driver’s license.”

You nod quickly and hand him the small plastic card. He needs a moment to read it. His eyes are not the best anymore.

“Wait a moment,” sheriff Wilson says after a moment and looks quickly from the card to you, “that’s incredible. Is it really you?”