• I cannot forget that day. It was snowing, but not very hard - snowflakes drizzled around, landing like soft, cold kisses on my head and face. My coat was open - the comfortably cold air flowing against my body, the bottom gently flapping against my legs. My deceptively long hair hung loose to be tousled by the light breeze created by my movements.

    It was the middle of the morning, the sun was shinning through the thick early winter clouds. The amount of people I shared the sidewalk with was significantly less than that of the early morning, or late evening, rush to, or from, work and school.

    I felt her long before I could see her. It had always been like that - her magnetic energy would permeate the air and tingle my skin, as if we had a special connection.

    I groaned inwardly. I couldn't see her. Not now. Not after I had tried so hard to get her out of my system. I felt my defenses take over and the mask, that I had worked so hard to create, fell over my features.

    I finally saw her in the midst of the crowd. As I spied her unmistakable hair, the shade of British-racing-green, time suddenly slowed to a painful crawl and the figures of the people in the crowd, and indeed everything else, blurred and lost all colour. All that was left was the occassional snowflake and the tingling on my skin.

    She was running in my direction, her wavy hair flying behind her and her heels faintly clicking against the pavement. It was a novel sight - I cannot remember any other time, other than that weekend so long ago, that I had seen her anything but composed and in-control. She looked afraid, unsure, and yet at the same time, happy and excited.

    I had stopped to watch her, wondering where she was headed, unconsciously hoping that she was looking for me. As she closed the gap between us, her eyes met mine and, for a fraction of a moment, I saw her hesitate. Time-wise, I would suppose that it would have ordinarily been unperceivable; but I saw it. Or rather, I felt it; I could feel her trepidation.

    But the sensation passed and I felt the strength of her resolve. She raised her arms to embrace me. I felt her fingers brush against my skin and I vaguely remembered how I likened the softness of her skin to that of rose petals; and, sometimes, the same colour too.

    She pulled me in for a kiss and I felt a senstation as light as one of the snowflakes falling around us before I sensed her jerk away.

    The world around us had returned to normal. I looked down at her and saw an expression of immeasureable sadness on her face. As I reawoke to the world, I realized that in the last moments of her approach I had unwittingly raised my hand between us.

    She hastily released me and I felt my hand fall to my side. I couldn't do anything but stare - she was so achingly beautiful, even more so in her pain and despair. Her lips started to move, I nearly missed the words.

    "I'm too late then." She took a step back, breathed to compose herself and inclined her head a small fraction to excuse herself before turning to walk away.

    Shock had rendered me immobile. I stared at where she had stood as the enormity of what had just happened sunk in. I had lost the only woman I had ever loved to my selfish pride.