And here she comes again. That white dress with those small orange flowers. It is an incredible view. Her hair bounces happily as she takes her morning stroll down the sidewalk as she does. Her smile never seems exhausted. Her eyes give no doubt at all about her peace of mind. It is difficult to explain, but I can see, with my own eyes her intelligence. It is bursting out of her with such swiftness. I think about her father. How he, with his own two hands, molded her into this being, whose infinite depth is hard to measure. He must have worked tirelessly on her. I do not pretend to understand how that must feel; not yet at least. Something inside of me jumped and all of the sudden I was off of that bench and sprinting towards her. I accidentally dropped my pen, but I could not stop. I approached her, so carefully and asked «what is your name?». I did not even bother to say «hello» or even «excuse me». There was no patience for that. She looked at me, a large part of me froze. I am certain I now understand what death will feel like. She smiled and said «Emily». Emily. We spoke for about a minute or two about her interests and goals, she was smart. I told you so. After I could not find anything more to talk about I asked if she would like to join me for lunch. This is the part where the fantasy plane crashed. Which had only one passenger. She told me she could not because she was on her way to meet her husband. Husband, of course! How could I have been so oblivious? Her ring was practically in my face. I looked at the ring and did not say a word. She could tell I was devastated. That is when I really understood what death must feel like. She excused her self and spoke the last words I ever heard from her, «have a good day!». A good day? It was impossible to have a good day after that mess. She left and about 6 seconds later I felt a tap on the shoulder. I looked back and it was a woman. She had short hair, dark. I looked at her and she said «you dropped your pen».