For months, they’d been sending messages back and forth.
He knew every little detail, save one. He’d yet to hear the sound of her voice.
Every night, she spoke to him in dreams. Once, she was the sound of a stream as it flowed softly across smooth pebbles. Later, the soulful song of a distant nightingale.
Now, his dreams were about to come true. He stood on the platform, sign in hand, waiting.
And then he saw her approaching, each step a waltz of grace and beauty.
She lightly touched his arm and held up a sign of her own…