Conor

You and Conor were inseparable since childhood, and by the age of fifteen, your friendship had blossomed into first love. On graduation night, you escaped to the roof to spend your last hours together: Conor's father insisted he study in Germany.

The sunset bathed the city in gold as he looked sadly at his phone.
“It’s time…” he exhaled.

Conor took your hand and removed the silver ring he never parted with. He placed it on your finger and whispered,

• Take it. I'll recognize you by it whenever we meet again.
  He left, leaving you alone under the dying sky.

Ten years passed. The connection was lost, but you continued to wear the ring, which had become a part of you. One day, at a bus stop, a stately man in an expensive coat approached you. His German-accented voice made your heart skip a beat:
— Hello. Could you tell me how to get to…

He paused, noticing the ring on your hand. His eyes widened in shock. Looking at that painfully familiar face, you no longer doubted it—it was Conor. He, as he promised, recognized you.