On This Day In Distant Future She woke up with a start. It happened often lately. And just as often, she felt confused and alone. Fear crept under her night gown, rushed along her spine, bathed her in cold sweat. She reached for a comforting hand next to her, but it wasn't there! She was alone in bed! The dream--was it really a dream?--came back vivid and real. She dreamt that she lost him. Again. How many times can her heart break from the same ache? Why are the dreams torturing her so, confusing her, mixing into reality? She clambered off the bed slowly, painfully. Every joint of her body shot a pang of protest as she willed her limbs to move. Her toes found the slippers, neatly arranged beside the bed--when did she do that?--and she shuffled to the bathroom on stiff legs. There she leaned on the counter and looked at the huge mirror stretching the whole length of the wall. An old woman stared back at her with eyes bewildered in fright. Pain was etched in the dark circles around her eyes, her lips squeezed into a thin pale ribbon. Sweat glued the gray strands of hair to her forehead. She wiped it with a shaky hand. She tried to steady her ragged breathing with a deep breath, but it felt like the air was swallowed by the hole in her heart. Her worst nightmare kept coming back to haunt her, her terror of being alone. So many times they've talked about it, so many times he explained how the pain dulls with time, but he lied. The pain in her heart could never dull, the hole where her love kept him could never fill in, never scar, never heal. A tear stole away from the corner of her eye, sliding on its rocky voyage over many lines the years marked her with. The years of laughing at his silly jokes, of his constant childishness, which lasted deep into the age when wisdom should have taken over. What would he say if he saw her standing like this, a crying old woman stooped from age and sorrow? Would he still see in her the girl he fell in love with, as he always claimed? Would he... "Hey, I didn't know you'll be up so early!" he said, startling her. He wore his favorite red sweater and jeans, and smelled of coffee and fresh air. His arms were folded behind his back. He stepped behind her and smiled at their reflection in the mirror. She seemed so small next to him, she always had. She leaned backward, expecting to find him gone, yet another cruel trick of her pained imagination. Her head touched his chest and she blinked in surprise. He was real! His smile vanished when he saw her tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern deepening his voice. She smiled through the tears. "I dreamt that you were gone," she told the mirror. "Again. It seemed so real. It hurt so much." He grinned. "Ah no, you will not get rid of me so easily." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed to her chest a single red rose he was hiding behind his back. A memory of another red rose filled her eyes with more tears: another rose and another hug, on this day many decades ago . She hugged him back fiercely. "Happy Woman's Day, my old girl," he said gently.