The brightness of the morning sun as it shines down onto the path, lighting up the way, it rests warm tickles against your skin. The scent of the damp earth rises up to meet you, swirling around and around until it fills your nostrils, before finding its new home. The sound of the wind as it whistles through the trees, trilling through a labyrinth of branches, the leaves rustling so noisily that they drown out your worries.
You’re not alone on the path; an upturned collar, a scarf covering all but the eyes, a hat precariously resting on his head and then his gait changes, the casual stroll he embodied has become more rigid, the energy bounces on the air between you, a frisson that causes static on the ends of your hair, you hold your breath as you take a glance up at his eyes.
How many times have you wandered alone in this forest in search of your fate, and here you are, face to face, an arm’s reach away, breathing, looking, and then his eyes crinkle and joy dances across his face as he hands you a bouquet of roses, ‘we meet at last…’