Talk about vision. She came to me one day when I was young. I was out in my little garden sipping beer. She sat beside me, took a sip off my bottle and leaned her head on my shoulder. No words were spoken, only the beating of our hearts communed. But when I tried to place my arm around her to hold her, to feel her warmth, she was gone. Only the stillness of the evening remained.

An eternity passed, the vision imprinted in my soul. I wrote about her, I longed for her, a nameless apparition haunting my loneliness.

Then I saw her. The very embodiment of the vision. She had a life! She had a name! She was everything the vision was. And my heart leapt, fluttered and soared.

But she knew me not. Oh, she knows my name. But her eyes did not reflect the recognition of mine. And it's too late. Fate had brought me to a plateau I cannot escape from. Fate had clipped my wings.