[ WP ] Every person you pass on the street reminds you of a certain loved one in a different way .

Surely I was not losing my mind. 
 No... Those was definitely her eyes. Big and round and a soft brown in eventide light, and a ghost of the golden star that shone on them during the day. 
 
 I shook my head, trying to push the memories out from the forefront. Instead, I decided to focus on getting through the next crowd of people. The sidewalks here are like the tide, rushing groups that came in waves. 
 
 There it was again. A young woman walked past me, earpods lodged in their place. She was pretty, I suppose, in the way that strangers sometimes were. But the hair of the stranger was the rolling gold curls that I knew some years ago. 
 
 Another person laughed nearby, and it was also hers. I smiled to myself and glanced around, half-hoping, half-fearing that I'd find her. I found the laughing girl, feeling both relieved and disappointed that it was not the lover I once knew. 
 
 
 I sighed and stepped to the precipice of the sidewalk. Inhale deeply for eight counts. Hold for four counts. Exhale for eight counts. It was a lesson in breath control I had learned in the ancient past, in my days of marching band. It was also a suitable meditation for clearing the head. 
 It had worked when my business threatened for several weeks. I managed to keep my head calm, and revive it, but now. 
 
 
 Now all I could think about was her. How she made my heart pound. How she turned a miserable time into a memorable one. How she- 
 
 
 I needed sit down. The street had cars racing down both sides, so jaywalking was out. I pushed rudely through a gaggle of pedestrians into the shaded marketplace inside. In a pretentiously half-restored coffee corner. I slid a ten on the counter. 
 `` Mocha Bianca, mate. I'm in a bit of a rush.'' 
 
 The barista's snort of derision was almost non-existent with the potential bribe laid out so garishly. He moved with practiced speed, giving me a piping hot coffee in a couple minutes. 
 
 `` Four fif-'' 
 
 `` Keep it.'' 
 I snatched the coffee and strutted away as quickly as I could, the aroma wafting out of the cup, and sending me back to her dormitory suite. 
 
 
 I pushed open some doors on the other side of the market and caught a gust of salty air. It should have blown some sense into my head, but all it did was remind me of her stories of surfing, of wandering the hills around Los Angeles. 
 
 I sat down on top of a sea wall, cup of coffee in one hand, and looked out into the sunset. She was the golden woman, eyes, hair, laugh, and soul. As bright and joyful as the western sunset, with promise of singing and dancing long after the light dissipates. 
 
 
 God damn it all.
