He often thought back to the strange girl he'd met in Rhode Island.
The one who claimed she loved him.
He thought back to the way she looked at him.
Now that he knew what it meant to love.
In the 6 years that had passed, he had loved as well, and lost too.
Which is why he knew what it truly means to love at last.
He'd sometimes bitterly smile and think of her face in the interior of his mind.
Memories of her came back to him often.
Of her affirmations to his stories.
Of her advice to him.
Or of the way she stirred her tea.
He wondered where she was and if she still wore the same kind of cropped sweaters over long slip dresses in the remorseless winters.
He wondered if her love for him had survived the test of time.
He didn't know what stirred him to return to where he had met her last.
But he ventured off to that corner of the street.
For the first time in 6 years he felt guilt for his words to her that night.
And then he thought, 'How can I expect her to even be here, today, in this spot, after 6 years?'
He chuckled to himself at his lack of logic and turned to leave.
The breath was caught in his throat.
There she stood in a plain white slip dress covered by a royal blue cropped sweater.
Her hair roped in its familiar braid, as she stared into the sky.
The bench she was sitting on was empty.
So he learned to breathe again in the minute long walk to her side and sat down next to her.
After the longest, most excruciating silence...
She laughed.
Loud and imperfectly.
So he did too.