It is a regular morning. The regular routine is in play as Henry and I regularly awake from our 9 hour slumber. I go to the kitchen to make a regular breakfast: toast, eggs, bacon, and hot chocolate with whipped cream. Henry walks in as I regularly set the warm plates down at our regular spots at the table. We regularly sprinkle a regular amount of cinnamon on our respective hot chocolates and say a regular, silent cheers as we toast to the beautiful, yet regular morning. I sip my beverage and allow myself to thoroughly enjoy this moment. I think of how lucky I am to have Henry and to have had the chance to change my mind, all those years ago when Henry was born. We've come a long way from that cold jail hospital room. After I got out, I moved us here, to 315 Center Plaza, to New York, to a fresh start. Ever since Neal left, I have felt more independent, more – I am interrupted mid-thought by a surprisingly loud banging at the door. I ignore it, thinking it's probably the neighbors and their rampant love-making. But when it happens again, I tell Henry to stay in the kitchen and go to check it out. As I twist the door knob, a thought of Neal flashes across my consciousness. It catches me off guard and the door opens to me with a distressed look on my face. The man on the other side is dressed in some sort of role-play, pirate get-up, complete with earrings (real ones) and a hook. The weird thing is that the hook is so realistic looking, I almost think he's Captain Hook from Peter Pan. Crazy right? God, when was the last time I watched that movie? "Swan", he says, smiling wide, as if he knows me, as if he loves me. "Do I know you?" I honestly don't know this guy, I've never met him before in my life. "An old friend," he says, "I know you don't can't remember me, but... I can make you." Without a second thought, he crosses the threshold and crushes his lips to mine. For a millisecond, I am familiar with those lips. But it passes and my defensive side kicks in. I knee him in the crotch to get him off me and grab the door to close it at a moment's notice. "What the hell are you doing?", I say, with a glazed-over tone-of-voice. Like I enjoyed the kiss. "I had to try to see if you felt as I did." What is he talking about? I've never met you, dude. "Look, you must listen to me. Your family is in great danger – " "What are you talking about?" "You have to come with me, Emma, listen to – " I slam the door. What was I supposed to do? Pack Henry up and leave with this random guy claiming to know me and something about my invalid family. Old Emma probably would've done that. The Emma that stole a stolen yellow bug from another random guy who is now the father of her kid. That Emma didn't have a concept of reality. This one does. And she is not going to give up her perfectly happy life with her son to save her long-lost, unknown family that didn't even have the decency to leave her someplace other than the side of the road, or... but that's not a realistic thing to do. I go back to sit down and Henry asks, "Who was that?" I hate lying because I hate it when other people do it to me, but I lie anyway. "I don't know, someone must have left the door open downstairs." Great job, Emma. "Okay." I finish up my bacon, but, somehow, I'm not hungry anymore. "Hey, I'm going to the store. I'll be back in a bit – keep your phone around in case I need to call you or you need to call me, okay?" "Alright mom. Bye." "Love you." I kiss his head; it makes me feel like a mom. "Love you too, mom." I go to my room and change into some leggings, my combat boots, and an old Led Zep t-shirt. I pop on my red leather jacket that, ironically, Neal bought for me, then I grab my keys, my purse, and my phone. With that, I 'm gone. I lied to him again. I can't got to the store with this guy's idea turning into inception in my mind and his touch still burning on my flesh. I have to find him. I run down the stairs because elevators aren't as quick and, as I'm doing so, frantically look for the pirate. This is not me, this is not me, I think and think and think, he couldn't have gone far, he couldn't have. I sprint the sidewalk outside my apartment complex, crashing into the occasional passer-by. It feels like it's been an hour and I feel my pocket vibrate. It's Henry. "Hi, babe, sorry I've been gone so long, the line took forever at the store – " "Mom, you've only been gone for like twenty minutes and that's not why I called." "Then why?" "The police department called to say they have a guy named Killian Jones at the station, he gave your name and said you'd come get him." "I – " "Do you work with him or something?" "Yeah... hey, I call you back later, okay?" "Wait, mom, are you going to get him?" "Yeah, I am."