"You're here! I've been looking everywhere!"

He smiled but went on as if she didn't say anything. They talked about homework, about movies, he took her on a walk and they roamed the halls of their old school, laughing at the poorly equipped science labs, pointing at the new flower shrubs in the courtyard.

She remembered his rough palms and how this time, with her hand in his, it was cool and smooth, like freshly laundered linen. His gruff voice was laughing in her ears and she too laughed and laughed as he repeated for her pleasure his best imitation of a perplexed and frustrated Rowan Atkinson. She never felt so happy.

They were in a taxi and she was looking at the Arthur Ashe Stadium he dutifully pointed out. Something he said made her turn to him. Furrowing her brows and pursing her lips she said, "But I could never hate you!" His features softened, his eyes melted and his lips curved into a big, broad smile. Head cocked to one side, he whispered "thank you."

And they were back walking again. In the sun, underneath the shadow of skyscrapers and wonders of the world, lost and found and lost again amongst faceless people busy with their own lives, worries and regrets. "He's here," she thought, "he didn't leave after all." The din of the traffic became louder still, as the cars and trucks and buses blurred past them. Although she couldn't see herself, she knew she was smiling. He was smiling.

And then she woke up.

And the feeling that all was right with her world began to ebb away, sun-drenched skyscrapers were replaced with stark, empty walls, the sudden silence so heavy against the fading frenzy of New York traffic. Burying her face underneath the covers, she tried to will the images back as his "thank you" drummed in her ears, and her palms searched for the warmth of his skin.

Once again, the little worm that was his death burrowed itself out of her heart, leaving a black, gaping hole.