On Saturday the sky was dark and gloomy. You were half an hour late but lovingly apologetic. It did not happen as it does in the movies. It took us a few minutes or so before we got comfortable with each other. Our faces looked a little older. The eyes did not. Just as you promised we walked all around the city. I took you to all my favorite places. You know what; I don’t care what anybody says. This is a great city. I love it. It just breathes life into me. This you did not like, still you just smiled and held my hand.

On Sunday it was crystal clear and freezing. I missed you. It was only when I gazed at your face in the light of the sun, I came to grips with that. The sound of the cracking leafs underneath our feet echoed like a Van Morrison song.

On Monday morning I woke up early, made myself a sandwich for lunch and walked to work. At around noon I was asked to go up to the top floor to pick up a misplaced letter addressed to me. The lift was busy and I decided to take the stairs. As I looked outside the window I noticed a single pink flower that had grown in the roof terrace of the adjacent building. I must have been the first and probably the only person to have seen it. It seemed peaceful and quiet, grown out of nothing in a place where nobody would ever be able to touch it. I stood there and stared at it. Just a lonely flower hidden from the world.