Her eyes were blue, he saw when he came up to her - as blue as the sky that framed her slender, silhouette. Her face was oval and young and soft and sweet. It evoked a deja vu so poignant that he had to resist an impulse to reach out and touch her wind-kissed cheek.
He looked at her closely. He had never seen such a guileless countenance. "And do you come her often?"
"Oh, yes. This is my favorite space-time coordinate. I stand here for hours sometimes and look and look and look. Day before yesterday I saw a rabbit, and yesterday a deer, and today, you."
Next afternoon when he climbed the hill it was empty. At first his disappointment numbed him, and then he thought, She's late, that's all. She'll probably show up any minute. And he sat down on the granite bench to wait. But she did not come. Day before yesterday I saw a rabbit, and yesterday a deer, and today, you.
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