That was a dream, that drizzly, dewy afternoon; she knows now. Even there and then it felt like a fantasy. It felt unreal but she wanted it to be real. She wanted it to be fate.
Guy met girl and he recognised her. She was the one standing at the train station the day before while he was waiting to meet some crazy from some dating app who wouldn’t give him her number. Now she was here again, same woman, same slinky dress. “That was you, I wanted it to be you,” he muttered.
She recognised him too and her heart dropped. Slim caramel man, thin face…he reminded her a little of somebody she had known…and why did he have to look so much better than his photo? Why did he have to speak so well and be so cute even when he didn’t seem so confident? Why did he have to smell so good? He was the type she had never, in her whole life, learnt to run from. No, she didn’t want to run and she walked up to his home with him but no, nothing really happened. Nothing that is real. Nothing that hasn’t evaporated, like dew in daylight. Something she will revisit in a never-ending daydream.
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