You replay the scenes in your head, trying to recall every single detail like it really happened.
It doesn't matter. You were there. With her. And quite alone you two.
The way you talk to each other and look into the other person's eyes and cling together. All without failing to disregard the presence of a world outside your mutual preoccupation. The feeling of exclusivity only two lovers can know. Even in a bustling crowd.
And that's what matters.
Some might call it pathetic. But you'd rather be pathetic than not knowing at all what it's like.
Now you know.
And it's like nothing else.
Nothing else... even though it's not real.
But the dream is real. It's a real dream. Perching above you on a cloudy Saturday morning. A dream of how it could be like.
Like nothing else.
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