Problem Attic. Insert witty tagline here.

To Noone in Particular

She came out of the mist, a spectre floating between the ghosts of apple trees as she walked towards me. The trees stayed shrouded in mist, but she became more solid, more real with every step she took, until she was standing in front of me, no longer a spirit but a creature of flesh and blood, so real, so now I couldn’t breath for fear of breaking the moment.

Of course, I had to breathe, and, as gently as I tried to exhale, it seemed a gale of rushing air and noise, shattering the impossible stillness of the moment. She smiled, a small rueful smile, as though she understood, and suddenly it didn’t matter. We stood for a moment, then turned and walked off as the sun sent its first tentative beams through the mist. Another day began.