I was a man of many sins. Many I regret and long to erase, and many I've learned to live with. I've grown used to the shadows, away from the luxuries I missed. The parties, the operas, the endless nightlife that swallowed me and my eternal youth, blanketing me in a lie that masked my truths.

I missed her above all else.

"Charlotte."

Her name always seemed to leave me, slipped off my tongue so deliciously, when I wanted her most. Drinks couldn't erase the memories. The abundance of drugs couldn't rid her from my dreams. I couldn't replace her with women, because I'd kill them. The blood that ran through my veins made me a murderer, but she was the only woman to survive my touch.

She shared my story. She loved me, and I loved her. And oh, oh was it sweet.

But like most things, it didn't last. She hated me for what she became. A youthful beauty, forever unchanging in an ever-changing world. How do you apologize for removing death from one's future?

You can't. So, I left.

At the time, the option seemed right. It was either leave or see her cry every time she saw my face. I chose to free her of me and hoped she'd find solace within my absence.

I just didn't think I'd miss her more as the years went on. What made matters worse was that I was so sure she'd moved on. Found a life somewhere, somehow, with the money I left her.

All while I remained here, alone, as I deserved.

"Are you going to sulk around here all night, or what?"

I took in a deep breath, swirling the ice around an empty glass of whiskey. I hadn't planned on sulking, I planned on drinking.

And where else does one drink but the only café in town?

It was strange, yes, but I couldn't walk into a bar without drawing attention to myself. The repercussions of one too many brawls, one after the other. I made an image for myself, and that was one of the sins I regretted.

My days in Rockfalls were limited, but Star made them easy.

Star was the beautiful barista at Eternal Blue, my favorite place in town. The old diner turned café had been my haven since I first walked into Rockfalls five years ago. I hadn't planned on living here or making friends, but I was tired of being a shadow on a wall. After jumping from city to city for over ten years, I thought it was time to settle—even if just for a little while. The convenience of prepaid debit cards and the internet made it oh, so easy.

"On the contrary, love." I pushed my glass towards her side of the counter. "I'd like another glass."

Star looked at me with her bright green eyes and puffy, pink lips, and smiled at me the way most women did. But her smile was friendly and protective, rather than fuck me silly—those were the smiles I'd get.

"One day, boss-lady is going to find this," she said as she lifted a whiskey bottle from below her register, "and I'm going to get fired."

I laughed, allowed her to finish filling my glass and rose it to my lips. "That's when I'd take care of you."

"Take care of me?" Star turned around to organize the coffee mugs in their proper section. A fresh pot spouted steam from its machine, and like a trained habit, her finger tapped the power button with grace. "I'll never compare to your Charlotte."

Ah, there went my heart.

I downed my third glass of whiskey, enjoying the burn it created as it slid into my chest. With a hiss, I sucked on my bottom lip and slammed my glass on the counter. "Charlie," I corrected her with a pointed finger. I was the only one who called her Charlotte. "Remember that."

"Right. Sorry." She raised a brow.

I hadn't intended on telling Star—or, anyone for that matter—about my relationship with Charlotte. Not only had I fully planned on trying to forget her, but it also wasn't easy explaining a love affair that lasted over a century. Yet, Star defended me at the bar one night four years ago, and despite me having broken three noses and four arms, she listened to a blubbering man go on about a woman he'd loved and lost. She took the years as a drunkard's exaggeration, and I went with it. One hundred and fifty years became fifteen, and I had been on the road for ten—alone.

She took pity on me and I thanked her for it. In exchange, I visited her café every Tuesday. This Tuesday, however, was different. Apart from my weekly visit to keep Star company, it was also my anniversary—or, what would have been an anniversary if Charlotte and I were still together. And for it, I needed more than just one drink.

"Where's Ron?" I leaned over the register to grab one of the café's infamous red velvet cupcakes. The treats were another reason why I visited on Tuesdays. "I hoped he'd been here to share a drink with me."

"Off today," Star said with a smile, pulling the string off her red apron and placing it on the rack beside her.

"Hm." I took a large bite, wiping a crumb away from my bottom lip. "Girlfriend, maybe?"

"God, no," she huffed.

"Sorry, love, is the spot yours? I can't take care of you if it is."

Her smirk met mine in a way that attracted me to her more than just her friendship, but sadly, that's all it was. She leaned over the counter, her slender fingers grabbing onto mine. We locked eyes—her green to my blue—and after a few seconds of silence, we laughed and shook our heads.

"You're lucky you're cute for your age, or else I'd never let you in here, you creep."

"I'm not old." I finished my cupcake and clapped away the crumbs from my fingers. "You're just young."

"Thirty-Seven is old," Star spat as she glanced up at the clock—8:55 P.M, "and I think old men have bedtimes."

"Mon chéri." I gripped the front of my white shirt and pretended my heart broke into pieces. The mock pain didn't stop her laugh as she ushered me out the door, flicking off the light switch beside it. I handed her a fifty-dollar bill from my front pocket, one that she took amorously.

"You need to sleep off the drinks. And move on. Seriously." She pressed her finger to my forehead, keeping me perfectly still on the welcome mat outside the entrance.

"I'll sleep them off," I assured her. "Thank you for letting me have one or two."

"Try five," she laughed as her blonde hair dipped over her face.

"Was it five?" I honestly couldn't remember.

"Goodnight, Lamont." Star closed the door and locked it. I wished her farewell, just as she flipped the 'We're Closed' sign on the glass door, and I headed down the empty streets of downtown Rockfalls.

*

The small-town life suited me fine. Its simplicity attracted my older age. Made it easy to try and move on. The first five or six years were the easiest. I partied, I drank; I discovered a new flurry of drugs that circulated the big cities. I did everything to keep from being sober, and it worked to my advantage. That is until my body adapted to the increased chemical flow within my veins, and the drugs lost their effects hours before the normal human. Even when combined with alcohol—which, at this point, did little for me—I'd return to normal sooner than hoped.

What good was a high that lasted ten minutes, tops?

After partying like a rock star, I tried exploring. Charlotte and I had traveled nearly everywhere, so I ventured through the smaller parts of life. Towns with a population of a thousand people, at most. You learn quickly you can't fit in, even if you tried. For me, that was fine, as I never intended on staying, rather I planned on creating new memories. Ones to overpower the old.

What worked to my advantage, sadly, was my memory. It was awful. I could lose hours throughout the day, the night, or whenever, really. I would sleep them away or sit dazed in one spot for ages. Sometimes, the blackouts were accompanied by nightmares. Glimpses of my past I couldn't normally recall, even if I tried.

I'd been that way since I could remember, and by then, all I knew was that I'd washed ashore in France and that I couldn't grow old. There were no memories of a family or mistakes I'd made—I couldn't even recall a childhood. It was as if I'd been born in that river and pulled into the world by Margot's hand. If it hadn't been for her, well, I would have died over two hundred years ago.

Still, even with my memory lapses and lost time, I couldn't forget her. I made friends to aid the process. Star and her co-worker, Ron, I would consider friends, even if they only knew what they could see. To them, I was an older man who happened to age gracefully and wandered into town with a shadow that barely spoke. A shadow that I had introduced as my younger brother. In all actuality, he wasn't a relative at all; he was simply Nathan—another friend.

Unlike the baristas at my favorite café, Nathan knew everything there was to know about me. I'd met him in Chicago six years ago; the young med student who saw my bad side one night, and instead of running away or calling the police, he became interested in me. My glowing eyes, my ability to jump higher than your average man.

And my inability to die.