Grace was acutely aware that every step she took was on ground they had once trodden together. Every pavement, cobblestone, gravel path, shop floor. This was their old stomping ground and every place with imbued with significance in her mind because the memories of his presence hovering over it. Does he think this too as he walks around our little town? It's been eighteen years. He'd probably moved on by now. She was convinced that the mere thought of their romance probably made him wince and cringe. The pain of it. The stupidly of going for someone like her. "

And yet, if she was thinking this, surely he must be thinking of her too. Was this a form or telepathy or extreme delusion? It annoyed her when he moved back to the area. I mean, he had every right to but it disturbed her long fought for equilibrium. She'd build high walls around herself to stop her looking the fool ever again. To stop her being hurt. And yet he was, not merely content to conquer the world and have his face and name everywhere but also wanting to come back into her world, with his wife and kids and remind her of the time shared and lost that could never be revisited. Why couldn't he leave her be?

And yet, another part of her longed to connect. Just to look into his eyes again, to smile and chat. She knew what the boundary was. They both did, of this she was certain. They both had their 'someone'. But it would soothe her soul to say what she felt needed to be said.