Man of Her Dreams

She was walking along the river holding an enormous bunch of red and golden leaves in her hand. It was autumn. The eighteenth autumn she met alone in this old park. The sky was so dark that she could feel the air trembling with fear for the approaching thunderstorm. She sat on the old shaky bench where not long ago she wrote some words - “Hi, I’m Helen”. Now she was not in the mood to inspect the surface of the bench. She was just sitting and tearing off the red and golden leaves and pushing them into the cold water. She felt the deepest loneliness inside her heart…

The first heavy drops began falling on the ground the wind grew colder and stronger…and she was the part of this tragedy. Suddenly her thin fingers felt some new scratches on the surface of the bench. She looked closer and saw a new word just under her own – “Hi”! Oh, she was so surprised…”Who could he be?”, – she thought (and she was sure that it was “he”). She was sitting in the rain getting wet and dreaming about this stranger who wrote her so little and gave her so much. Of course he was tall and handsome with blue eyes and dark hair, wearing a black overcoat and black jeans. Naturally he was the best man in the world – they loved each other, they never argued, they had the same interests… That was the man of her dreams, who wrote only one word and received the whole heart of the young lady in the cold autumn evening.