Once there was a girl.

Once upon a time there was a girl, who was brought up to do all right and no wrong, she enjoyed her studies, laughed with her friends, and read all the books she could find.

She enjoyed drinking hot milk with honey with a book on her lap, she enjoyed the scarce rainy days, where she'd sit against a couch and listen to the rain dribble outside her window.

She loved the sight of droplits on the glass, a vision that had always left her giddy with warmth.

Slim, tall, with sleek dark hair, he used to smile at her and watch her stack her books away, teased her about her glasses, and remarked that she should eat her sandwich before he did.
she remembered that he liked melted cheese on cold bread.

Perhaps she'd make it now.

Perhaps not.

It was in a hot summer's day, where she learned he befriended another girl, she scoffed and laughed the matter off her shoulders, she wasn't brought up to fall in love after all, and the notion was foreign as snow to her.

Love=Trouble in her book. It was an equation she wished not to join in, for there was no pleasant ending to the matter, she wasn't an idealistic princess, and he was certainly not prince charming.

Oh, he had many faults, Too many, she decided primly, and it would not do to waste time on him.

However, why did the memory of his white smile make her heart flutter?

Why was it-when he walked into a room he would make everyone blur in the background?

Why was it when he was with another girl, her breath caught?

Why was she thinking this now?

She should move on.

Would- Move on.

She couldn't stay struck on a dream, a man, a boy that was never to be hers.

After all there were prospects to consider:
He would never buy her a Porsche.
He would never fly her to Paris on they're anniversary.
He would never take her on a shopping trip to Saks.

Never, Never.

And here she stood looking out a lonely room, watching passers go by in wonderment...

But what if?

What would it be like?

What would it be like to have him here?
How did it feel for him to hold her?
How did he smell?

God, she couldn't remember.

Was it strong cologne, or peppermint?

Cologne, she decided.
She liked the smell.

Would he like the simple yellow dress she was wearing?
Or would he insist on the red ensemble, that still hung in her closet untouched?

She remembered, he couldn't even pronounce the brand's name, "Channel." he had said, scoffing at the more correct name of the iconic brand.

She recalled a night of far away, a broken voice on the other end of the phone, "W-Why?"he had asked like a little boy begging to know what he did wrong.

She had informed him she did not want anything to do with him anymore,

So cold.

So harsh.

Just like her, she thought grimly.

And here she stood looking out a beautifully furnished room, riches in her closet, and a Porshe down in her garage, just as she had always wished for.

she heard footsteps behind her, and turned to pose a smile at the elderly man, he had come to inform her that she was needed downstairs, "I'm coming, darling."she said kindly to her elderly husband.

All thoughts of a dream buried in her head.