Pulling his Ray Bans from his bag, rested them on his head and stepped out of the cabin, the sun wasn't that bright but he liked to hide his eyes.  Michael knew he also looked cool in them.  The area by the parking lot was still full of people, campers milled about chatting and lugging bags, some waved enthusiastic greetings and a few girls gave him admiring looks as they walked by.  Stretching, showing off his bulging biceps and pecs, sighed and turned away from the crowd.  The lake looked inviting at least.  It had been the scene of a few summers of fun with the old gang.<br/><br/>Searching for a familiar face didn't find much hope in the others around him, Michael knew it would be a long shot to see anyone he might remember from Cherryville.  No one his age went to camps anymore, most were at the beach or hanging out at someone's pool.  He certainly could have done that, but to be in the house, their house, his parent's house it did not feel right.  The place wasn't him any more.  Even the room, untouched since he left wasn't him, though the maids were scrupulous about cleaning it up, other than memories the place was hollow.<br/><br/>Slipping out of his shoes walked along the edge of the lake, rolling up his pants legs to mid-calf, the cool water ran over his feet.  Ahead a girl, a hot one, was skipping rocks.  A few good throws, then a splash as she threw one in with anger.  As he neared something about her struck a memory.  People change but the little things don't, the way a wrist moves, a gesture, a turn of the cheek, that remains as one ages.  Nearing her the face and hair were not what he remembered, but something within recalled her before his mind had a chance to grasp at the memory.<br/><br/>"Callie?  Callie Coleman?"  His voice was deep, questioning as he stepped up.  A jaunty angle on his hips and a dimpled, smile on his face, letting his eyes run up and down her body, "you're looking great after all these years."