Caveman by V. Andrian

have him throwing me out with absolutely no way of going back to civilization.
    So instead, I get inside and place my bag next to the bed. I’m even more surprised to see my case folder on the table, next to my briefcase. Did he open it? Did he read it? I’m a little annoyed that he would look at my personal stuff without my permission but I’m actually curious of what he thinks of it. Of what he thinks of me. If he did read the case file, it means he knows why I’m in Alaska.
    My hand moves before I can stop myself and I open the case file. Damon’s photo is right there, on the top, attached to the sheet of paper containing every piece of information I have on him. I run my fingers over the edges of the photo and freeze.
    “Oh my God,” I breathe as the realization hits me like a freight train. It’s him. Damon. My caveman. They are one and the same.
    How could I not have seen it until now? I’ve memorized that picture. I’ve memorized every little detail about him including his hair and eye color. I had sensed some kind of recognition from the moment I’d first saw him leaned over the fireplace but I hadn’t made the connection. Oh my God, this is beyond unbelievable. I found him!
    I start turning around to go talk to him but stop short. Another thought comes to mind and it’s confusing me. He read the file. He must have because it couldn’t have gotten out of the briefcase on its own and he wouldn’t have taken it out just to lay it on the table for me. So he knows it’s him I’m looking for. But why didn’t he say anything? And why is he here, in the middle of nowhere living like a hermit?
    His hair, his beard… I think he has been here ever since he left seven years ago. He had planned to come here all along. He had planned to leave civilization behind. But why? He had everything and he left it all… for this? A log cabin in the middle of nowhere with the only plus being a hot spring within a fifteen-minute walk? It doesn’t make any sense.
    It strikes me then that I found him. And the irony is that I found him after my plane crashing on my way to McCarthy. Where I thought he was but is proved that he wasn’t. It’s like… like the plane crashed so I would find him. Which is morbid since the pilot died but I can’t help feeling that I was somehow meant to find him and fate brought me to him.
    I close the file and sit on the chair. I want to understand him. I want to know what was so bad that drove him away from a dreamy life. And then I want to get him and go back. I want to close this case and give him his life back. But will he want it?
     
    The door to the cabin swings open and my caveman comes in, holding the metallic plate filled with cooked meat. I lift my head from where I’d dozed off on my arms and blink up at him. Damon. He’s Damon. I should have seen it. Now that I know it seems so obvious. The only difference from the photo is his hair and beard.
    His eyes see the folder under my hands but he doesn’t say anything. A muscle in his jaw is ticking and he places the plate in front of me. “Eat,” he says simply.
    I’m hungry but I don’t care about food in the moment. Instead I point a finger on the file. “You read this.” I’m not asking. I know he did.
    His eyes are incomprehensible as he holds my gaze. What is in his mind? Can he see what’s in mine? Can he tell the swirling emotions inside me now that I know I found him?
    “I did,” he says eventually and turns to the fireplace.
    That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? I push up from my chair and point at the file again. “You’re him. You’re Damon Sawyers.” A lump forms in my throat as I speak. “I found you,” I add as a soft sob escapes along with my words.
    He clenches his hands to his sides but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “Eat,” he says sharply.
    “No,” I insist. “I found you. You’re Damon Sawyers.”
    “I’m not,” he barks out.
    “You are! Your hair is different and you have