Some of the cobblestone streets of old Quebec are incredibly steep. I was descending one of them as she was climbing. For me, it was a novel experience. For her, just one more time.
She had a practical, modest, elegance about her in low heels and a below-the-knee length skirt. Her eyes flashed nearly black and I held them in surprise for a little more than an extra beat as an electric current ran through me. I didn't mean to stare. She was bright and serious and none of what stirred so suddenly in me appeared to be moving in her.
Hardly more than a second. Like a beautiful sunset, a snapshot imprinted in memory. All the things that never happened along with the heartbreak that somehow did.
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