A sharp ache tightened in his chest. It had been twelve years since he last heard those words spoken, not sung. "It’s a rare find," a voice said from the doorway.

"I saw the record," he managed to say, gesturing vaguely at the window. "It reminded me of the song you used to hum when we studied for exams."

"Why didn't you write back after that first summer in the city?" Kerem asked, the old wound finally finding words.