Two nights ago, I dreamt we were waiting for a train to Brighton. We were younger then, probably in another dimension, in another time. You looked happy and I remember an indelible smile etched on your face. I had a hot cup of coffee, you were struggling with your juice and what looked like some pastry in a brown paper bag. You said you wanted to get some serviettes and you skipped off to the coffee shop, turning back once to wink and gestured for me to wait.
You never came back.