I imagine again the feel of her arms around my body, as she holds me tightly against her.I imagine again the taste of her kiss. The kiss that betrays ...he soul within and its intent. The kiss that cannot possibly be our first kiss, on the first day we have met face to face.I can still smell her on me. Does she know what her fragrance did to me yesterday? Could she possibly know? It is still winter, in spite of the calendar date saying it is spring. In the chill of a Canadian spring, we both. A pause. Then some more people. Another pause. Then a larger group. And then she came into sight. A leather jacket, perhaps anticipating a cool climate, or perhaps just her style. Her hair. Her face. Just like the picture. And then she saw me. Our eyes met. Not the proverbial romantic moment, but a mutual smile of recognition. Of being pleasantly surprised that sometimes pictures don’t lie. The conversation was lovely. Just like our e-mails, but with her voice speaking them out loud. Her. More

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