Familiar

In a strange city, on an unfamiliar street, I hear my name and turn, to see a face both smiling and awkward.
We exchange 'Hello's and 'How've you been?'s while toying frantically with hair and stray garment thread.
As he turns and leaves, I cannot help but notice that the silhouette ambling into the dimming city sun is still as familiar to me as the pink-strapped top the girl on his arm is wearing.

I wonder if it still has my name in it.