This was it. The night she’d been dreaming of for years. She walked in a slow circle around her beautiful, bright gallery, drinking in the feelings she still got from each and every one of her photographs and paintings hanging upon the white walls.

She couldn’t help herself. She thought back to that night with him in the park, planning their futures, eyes bright with excitement…

She was going to open her own art gallery, complete with her own photos of ocean waves and laughing loved ones. The opening night would go by in a lovely blur of sparkly evening dresses and bubbly champagne. She would be astonished by how many people liked what she had created and he would look at her adoringly and say “I told you so”.

And once they locked the door behind the very last person to leave, they would pop some confetti and another bottle of champagne, sit on the floor and order a pineapple pizza. They would then proceed to talk about how far they had come, how amazing it was that they were living what had once just been a dream and the future dreams they wanted to live together. They would laugh and kiss and fall asleep  tangled in each others arms as the sun began to rise.

She heaved a sigh. That was how it was supposed to go.

But no ! She wouldn’t let that ruin her accomplishment.

The night did indeed go by in a blur and before she knew it, a week had passed. A week full of new clients asking for custom pieces, she could barely keep up.

​

It was a chilly, misty Wednesday morning and she was struggling to hang one of her large, heavy canvases on the wall when it fell on her little toe, causing her to hop around and make such loud, unflattering noises that she didn’t hear the bell jingle as someone walked in.

​

He had been around the corner of the building, debating for a good twenty minutes as to whether he should go in or not. As he watched her dance awkwardly to her music as she went about her work thinking no one was watching, he couldn’t help but smile. And almost unconsciously, he started toward the door as if being drawn by a giant magnet.

As he opened the door, she dropped a large canvas on her foot and made a string of noises that sounded like those of a baby goat. He smiled again, noting that she was still as clumsy as ever.

​

When she turned around mid-hop and their gazes caught, she just stared, a million expressions flitting across her face.

“Hello”, he said quietly.

“What-how”, she started to say but then went back to simply staring at him in shock.

He held up a newspaper, “I saw in a small article that you did it, you made your dream a reality. And I couldn’t help but want to come see everything and congratulate you.”

She seemed to regain her composure and thanked him politely, offering him a tour of the place.

They walked around in uncomfortable silence as he took in the energy of all of her pieces. So vibrant and soulful, he thought. They made him feel as though he were sat in a corner of her mind as she made them and could feel everything she felt.

She stopped abruptly at one corner and tried to divert him off to the left. Looking past her,  he saw a familiar pair of eyes gazing out of a frame back at him.

“You put up pictures of me ?” He said in amazement.

Pictures of him laughing, of him covered in her paint, reading a book, drinking coffee from his favourite mug, of him gazing sleepily up at the camera, of him laughing again as he threw flour at the camera, they had been making pancakes that morning, he remembered.

“They were some of my favourites,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “and some of my best sellers!” She laughed, seeming embarrassed.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered and as he stared into those big brown eyes that used to sparkle up at him, he felt physical pain. He had never wanted to wrap someone in his arms as much as he did in that moment. He wanted to crush her body into his until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He wanted to run his fingers through her sunkissed hair, down her long tanned neck and arms and intertwine them with her slender fingers, always splattered with paint, he wanted to – His mind spluttered as he focused on her left hand.

No.

She followed his gaze and flushed.

“I should go.” He turned and stalked out before she could say anything.

She stood there stunned. She had never expected to see him again. The volume of crushing emotions she was experiencing threatened to suffocate her as she stared after him.

And before she knew what she was doing, she ran out the door after him.