I saw a girl on the street who looked like you. It was the curly hair and the way she concentrated intensely on her camera as she photographed children playing at the Tivoli gardens. Even though I’ve never seen you with a camera.
Do you remember the night we made love on my terrace? We lay there afterwards, and while looking up at the stars I said those words for the first time. You laughed and called me corny. Twenty minutes later, as you were falling asleep on my chest, you said you loved me too.
I saw her face and the allusion broke. Perhaps it was only the longing.