First the cinema had closed, then the cake shop, and a parking meter now stood where the bench beside the river had been. Sanja and Vlado visited all these places on Saturday morning like two poorly informed tourists. They arranged the meeting after twenty years and several months of messaging. In messages they were witty. In person they kept pointing toward things that no longer existed.

Sanja had come from another city, where she had lived since finishing university. Vlado had stayed, married and divorced, and changed jobs three times. Their messages rarely mentioned any of that. It was easier to remember their first kiss, rain on a school trip, and the teacher whose voice they could both imitate. They had an entire relationship composed of memories, although they had not begun a present one.

At noon it began raining. They entered the first open establishment, a small restaurant completely unfamiliar to Sanja. Vlado apologized for the unusual choice. There was no reason to apologize. The room was warm, the food smelled good, and the window overlooked a street they had never crossed together. Sanja removed her wet scarf and relaxed her shoulders for the first time that day.

She asked what he did when he was not working. He said that on weekends he took his mother shopping and tried repairing a small boat, although he had nowhere to keep it. She explained that since her divorce she was living alone for the first time and did not yet know whether she liked it. The conversation was no longer easy. They had to listen instead of merely remembering.

Vlado admitted avoiding mention of his daughter in messages because he did not want to sound old. Sanja showed him a photograph of the son she had just sent off to university. Both felt ashamed of their caution. Twenty years was not empty time to skip so they could return to the old story. During those years, adults had grown whom they did not yet know well enough to kiss.

At the station Vlado hugged her and asked whether she would visit again. Sanja said he should come to her next time. There they could not spend the morning searching for vanished benches. She would have to show him the shop where she bought bread, the park where she ran, and the apartment she was still arranging. Vlado agreed. The bus departed before they found a perfect closing sentence, leaving both something for their next meeting.