She smiled to herself that day. She always prided herself as a woman of the future, independant, bold and most importantly -- by nature not the clingy sort. They didn't need to hold hands when they were out. In fact the thought of his hand enveloping her tiny hand seemed slightly intimidating and made her palms sweaty. And not in a hot flashy kind of nervosity but a painfully distressing one.
He was a vision of confidence and intelligence that emboldened her. In person he was a larger than life character yet he possessed a faltering flakeness she could not comprehend. He was like rows and rows of validated numbers that didn't quite add up. Sometimes he was vulnerable, sometimes he was honest and most of the time he was himself the self assured bloke. Bloke, not dude not guy.
There were times when all she wanted to do was to reach out to him and say that she empathised. And deep down inside she really knew what he was feeling. Feelings about fear, about confusion about hope or the lack of. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly while counting to ten. Then it came to her. The few memories he left behind.
He reminded her of kisses on her back, cuddles under warm sheets, coffee and city hall.
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