I saw a man today. I thought it was James. He had the same light brown hair -- the colour of caramel -- and he was about the same height. I couldn't believe that James had gotten out of the Army, had come to Paris.

So I watched the man for a while. He was standing against the stone pillar of a building across the street, most of his face turned away from me. I watched the way he smoked his cigarette, bringing it to his lips before taking a long drag and slowly putting his arm back to his side, exhaling the smoke through the side of his mouth, just like James does.

I couldn't help the warm excitement that had been building inside of me since I saw the man. I warned myself not to get my hopes up, it certainly wasn't James, my darling brother. But the mannerisms were too similar... he ran his hand through his hair like James, he was leaning like James, he smoked like him. Could my brother have come to surprise me, or could he have been unable to find me yet and was taking a break to think where I could be?

Yes. That had to be it.

"James!" Suddenly running, nearly getting hit by a German Army car, nearly toppling over onto the side of the road...

Fingers touched rough fabric on a shoulder, gripped, certain they knew the shoulder, certain it was that of a brother. Man spun around, pulling my hand off of him --

An unfamiliar face. Not nearly as handsome as James', nothing like it now that I see it... how could I have been so stupid as to confuse this man with my best friend?

He saw the slender blonde woman, believed she couldn't harm him. His facial expression softened slightly, but his voice was hard.

"Que voulez-vous?"

Shook my head, couldn't speak. It wasn't embarrassment I was feeling, it was the deep sadness of terrible disappointment, the terrible emptiness of homesickness, and the crushing sickness of wondering if your brother could be dead or alive.

I think I may be going insane.