The first time you saw her was the last time she saw you.
You had stepped outside your apartment to witness the last of the storm, the earthy petrichor filling your head, the streets shimmering in the setting sun, its glimmering visage spread on every surface around you. A complete stranger had crashed into your arms, an inconsolable mess, sobbing into your jacket while apologizing. You comforted her and invited her in to dry off from the rain. She obliged, but by the time you had returned with a towel she was gone with no trace. You brushed it off as nothing more than a chance encounter, and over time the memory faded as all do.

The second time you saw her was the last time you looked at anyone else.
You were on a business trip looking for a late lunch when you saw her sitting there in the shade of a tree, head buried in a book, brighter than the sun and cooler than the breeze. She seemed familiar - not that you had any idea at the time - and something pushed you to go talk to her. You approached her unsure of what to say, but she seemed more than happy to indulge you. Both of you traveled for work, though she insisted hers was much more intensive than yours. You countered with stories of all the places you'd been and the things you'd seen over the years, but to your surprise, she seemed to outdo you each and every time. You spent the rest of the day together wandering the city, exchanging numbers and a vague promise to meet should you be in the same area again - but she never left your mind.

Over the next few years, she faded in and out of your life, somehow finding you wherever you traveled. You would find her at a coffee shop in Paris one week, she would ambush you at a bar in Tokyo the next. You might not meet each other for months, but each time you did it felt like no time had passed at all - conversations flowed easily, no matter how long it had been. Eventually, she gave you a proposition. She had retired with more than enough money for the rest of her life, and perhaps the two of you could travel the world again - together, this time. You agreed, handed in your two weeks notice, and set off with her. She took you places you had never been before, some that you had never heard of. In exchange, you took her to the cathedral with a promise to tour the world with her forever. She laughed at you but ultimately accepted, and from then on she never left your side.

As time went on, the two of you decided to settle down and raise a family - one daughter, every bit as beautiful as her mother. You raised her together for only a few short years before your time ran out - inoperable, terminal. You settled your affairs and made your peace. After all, you'd live through your loving wife, your children, and your children's children. At this point, there was naught to do but celebrate what little time you had left. When your vision faded, hand in her hand, you etched her face into your mind, and a long distant memory bubbled up to the surface. And you could've sworn, she looked just the same as the first time you met.

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Pub: 22 Jan 2022 09:32 UTC
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