“Do you dream about me?” she asked him. “All the time” he answered. She had been in control of their conversation from the moment they sat down in the emerald leather booth, playing with a silver charm bracelet dangling from her right wrist as she slowly and skilfully coaxed his life story out of him. He liked this and he liked her. Their waitress placed two cups of coffee on the formica table and a slice of apple pie with two forks “for you to share, it’s on the house” she said to them smiling. The forks looked too tiny and fragile to cut through such an enormous slice he thought to himself. Later they shared an umbrella as they walked together in the rain, her moving the umbrella towards him, worried the rain would ruin his leather jacket, him manoeuvring her away from puddles so they wouldn’t spoil her boots. They walked past the restaurant where they first met two weeks ago, her working the bar where he was sitting alone, nursing an Old …