Wrapped in her thick duffle coat, her icy breath forming in front of her, she made her way towards the figure in the distance. It was a dark night and the streets were devoid of life; she didn't know what time it was or how she had got here, but her mind wasn't on such trivial things. She was ten paces away and the figure, hearing her approach, turned around to face her.
This was a dream.
Sucking on his trademark Marlboro Red, his green eyes met hers. She stared and stared, her eyes feasting on him; how long had it been since she was able to look upon him like this? She stepped closer, until their heads were nearly touching, and smiling, gently took the cigarette from his mouth.
"How many times do I have to tell you? They're bad for you," she said.
He grinned, and placed his hand gently on her cheek.
"I've missed you telling me off".
A tear escaped from her eye but she continued to smile.
"I've missed you, too".
He was dressed in his usual white vest and battered Giorgio Armani jeans; his handsome face sporting two day-old stubble, and despite the cold, his tanned skin was warm, as if a beating sun was shining down only on him. On her beautiful Italian boy.
This was a dream.
She closed her eyes and let him hold her. Wrapped in his arms, everything was how it should be, everything was perfection. And though she finally felt him fall away, replaced by reality, she couldn't open her eyes, she couldn’t let him go. Not yet.
This is beautiful. A real testament to the loss of someone you love. I don't know if that is what you intended, but I interpreted it as this.
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