When I saw her crossing the street in front of the train station, I had a flash of recognition. I searched my memories and grasped onto one from two years ago.
The same staccato rhythm of high heels tapping the pavement. A swirling of skirt. A shimmy of hips. A hat gracing a head of flowing raven hair. A black cape replacing the red jacket I remember from that cold December day when it was all still new and the Lady In Red made me smile when not much else did.
I don't think it's an accident that I saw this stranger again just half a day after writing about home and life and happiness and change. Only this time, she didn't have to make me smile.
Because I already was.
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