Azalea’s fingers caressed over the scribbled words that triggered her mind’s eye to pull up images from the past. So clear were the memories, that she could hear the clacks of the Argentinian woman’s heels and the swish of her skirt as she brushed against her partner’s body in a tango, while off to the side the breeze was carrying the aroma of the meats the asador was preparing on the parrilla. Even the taste of the red wine came back to her; the memory had her smiling softly.
The sound of the key in the door had her look up, fully expecting to see her mother or aunt rounding the corner, but instead a male voice she hadn’t heard in years, called out. At first, Az thought she had simply imagined it, but then he stepped into the living room, and her heart soared. His hair was a little longer, a bit messier, but he was the same Garrick she had seen that spring equinox when they first met; the same Garrick she had only seen in her dreams and memories for the past couple of decades. His kiss was the same, it still made her heart pound and threaten to take away her breath, and as he melted onto the couch, her arm came around his neck, her fingers delving into that soft mess of his hair, just to hold him close.
“Hi,” she whispered, her fingers slowly caressing his cheek, enjoying the feel of his beard. “I missed you.”