I hadn’t seen him in ten years and it took my breath away just to see his tanned skin and dark hair from across the restaurant. He had always taken good care of himself physically and even now, at 45 years old, he was in good shape. His lips – a perfect pink colour, like my lampshades – curled back in a grin to reveal sparkling white, straight teeth. He was telling a story and the group at his table all laughed uproariously at the ending. He leaned back and took a sip of his drink, probably a gin and tonic. His eyes wandered across the room and I found my hand flying up to my hair in an attempt to be sure it looked good. His eyes met mine and there was a flicker of recognition; green eyes met brown eyes and for a split second I thought he might jump up and come over. But the recognition slowly faded from his eyes and he turned back to his group, preparing to regale them with another tale. A voice brought me back to the present.
“Are you okay, darling?” I smiled at him.
“Just fine. I thought I’d seen a ghost.”