I’m running. Fast. I don’t know who from and I don’t know where to. All I know is that I’m scared. I need to get away from someone or something, but I’m slowing down and running out of breath. I turn a corner into a residential street lined with parked cars. Perfect. Crouching down behind a stationary vehicle, I rest my hands on my knees and take deep breaths. Calm down, I tell myself. You’re useless in this state. Breathing easier, I straighten up slightly and gently lean back against the cool metal of a passenger door. Wrong move. The car bursts into life. Hazard lights flashing, an incessant beeping fills the early morning stillness. Cursing my stupidity, I break into a sprint once more, and that’s when it hits me. I fall, spiralling downward into inky blackness…
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
I groan, turn over, and flail around madly. My hand eventually connects with plastic and the noise stops. Silence. Sunlight streams through the undrawn curtains, hurting my eyes before I’ve even opened them. Disorientated, I fling my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. I’m naked, though I don’t remember how I ended up that way. Strange. A banging headache tells me that I must have been very drunk last night. Three pints of water and some dry toast later, I stumble in and out of the shower, throw on some clothes and wander over to my desk to start some work. As usual, it’s littered with papers and half drawn comic book characters. A pot full of pencils, charcoal and ink pens stands overflowing in one corner, while an unsteady tower of empty coke cans stands at the back leaning precariously on the wall behind. I really should tidy up. Noticing my journal open in the centre, I glance at the date on my digital clock and turn to the relevant page.

WEDNESDAY 12TH MARCH: CAFÉ VERO 4PM. BLONDE WEARING A RED COAT.

I stare at the page for a few moments, racking my brains for a memory, or at least an idea of whom I have arranged to meet. I get nothing. Must have been an appointment booked a long time ago, I decide. Maybe a publisher or agency wanting to look at my work. I look at the clock once more, twelve pm, plenty of time to draw up a new design. I’ve had a character in mind for weeks that I am yet to transfer to paper. A new character for a new opportunity. I hope.

Café Vero. Our usual meeting place. He can’t fail to spot me this time. I’m the only red coat wearing blonde in sight. Part of the reason why I chose such a bright colour actually. Not only does it compliment my hair, but it makes me easy to spot from miles away! I’m getting quite warm now, but I daren’t take off my jacket in case he doesn’t recognise me without it. In fact, I know he won’t recognise me without it. I have to be the person written in his journal. The person that he is expecting to meet. You’d think I’d be used to waiting for him by now, but it never gets any easier. Every day I feel the nerves increase as I near the café. I feel tense and sick as I nurse my usual caramel latte at my favourite table facing the door. I watch every man that comes in. Sometimes he is early; more often than not he is late. Sometimes, he doesn’t show up at all.

Café Vero. I don’t think I’ve been there before. Sounds a little informal for an official meeting. Not that I mind, I’d rather have a conversation about my work in a high street coffee shop than try and impress in a fancy office any day. I ease my new drawing into my portfolio and throw it over my arm. Keys, phone, wallet, and I’m out the door.
I always enjoy the walk into town. It’s peaceful for the most part and has a surprisingly green landscape if you notice the views. The hum of traffic grows steadily as you get closer. The roads get bigger and more and more people drift in from all directions. The high street itself seems to have an abundance of coffee shops and cafes, amongst the usual retail stores. They are always bursting with people though. You’d think three Starbucks and two Costa Coffees would be overkill for a reasonably small town, but the evidence suggests otherwise as people are still queuing to get in! Madness. Café Vero is the only one of its kind. The only one that I know of at least. It’s at the bottom of the high street facing the park, and tucked nicely out of the way from the hubbub of the daily shoppers. It’s somewhere that I’ve actually been meaning to visit myself for a while, but as with many things I just never got around to it.
I arrive and stare through the window at the mismatch of people and furniture inside. A blonde in a red coat sits directly in front of the door to the left of me. She stares intently at everyone that walks in. She hasn’t spotted me peering through the glass yet, which gives me a chance to check her out before entering myself. She is pretty. The kind of person I may ask out for a drink were I not here in a professional situation. I’m pleased. It’s nice to see a friendly face for once instead of the snooty critics that I normally come into contact with. I think I may enjoy impressing this one. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and feel instantly more relaxed as she beams at me.

He stands outside for a good five minutes or so gazing through the window before he finally comes in. I try not to look at him. Letting everything happen at its own pace. He looks tired and he’s lost weight. I wish he’d look after himself properly. I fight the urge to jump up and give him a hug. I’ve made that mistake before, and now know that I have to leave everything to him. I arrange the meetings and from there the decisions are his. He’s carrying his portfolio, clutching protectively to its plastic handle. I can already guess what’s inside- his brand new idea for an inventive and interesting character. I’ll have seen it before, but I’ll have to feign surprise and praise. A sigh escapes before I realise, making him look nervous. He reaches my table and stands still in front of the empty chair. Stretching out his hand to shake my own, he introduces himself.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dan. I’m supposed to have an appointment with you?”
I accept his hand and gesture towards the seat opposite me.
“I’m Hannah. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you…”
Again. Seeing you again. I have to catch my tongue before I say it. Don’t want to cause any confusion this early on. Best to start things off slowly. He spreads open his portfolio on the table and extracts a piece of paper from it.
“I’ve brought you the initial drawings of a new character I’m working on. His name’s Memo…”

Memo. A modern day superhero with an unnatural capability to memorise every aspect of any event in photographic detail. He merely needs to catch a glimpse of a person’s face, a place, or a piece of writing and that image and information will be forever imprinted on his memory. He’s my best creation yet. None of this flying or mind reading nonsense, but someone with a genuine talent. A believable superpower. I’m hoping he’ll have widespread appeal as someone my readers would relate to and maybe see something of themselves or someone they know in.
Hannah has been holding my drawing for a while now. She’s looking intently at the paper, seemingly absorbing every detail, yet I can’t work out if she likes it or not.
“I know it stills needs some work. It’s only a draft really, an idea I’ve meant to explore for a few weeks now, but I’ve only just got round to it…”
“It’s great,” she interrupts, “You have a real talent. I’d love to see some more of your work some time.”
“Really? Wow! Thank you. I’m flattered. How about you keep that copy and at our next appointment I’ll have an improved version?”
“That’s so kind of you, but I can’t just take it! You might need it.”
“It’s yours, honestly.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes are shining with emotion. For a moment I think she’s about to cry. I feel embarrassed. It’s only a rough sketch after all, not a priceless work of art. Without realising what I’m doing, I’ve put my hand lightly on hers. She surprises me by entwining her fingers in mine and squeezing tight.

He gives me the picture and I want to cry. He thinks I’m overcome by this gesture of kindness. I suppose I am in a sense, just not in the way he thinks. Every time we meet, part of me can’t help imagining things will have changed. Nothing massive, I know things will never be normal, but just something small. A minor improvement. Whenever he slides that picture from his portfolio, I wait in both anticipation and trepidation to see what he will produce. I want more than anything to see something as unique and brand new as he promises, but I am always disappointed. Instead, he brings Memo. Something he drew that morning, but is an exact copy of the comic book character that I have been shown every day of every week for as long as I can remember. I have a pile of them at home, stacked in a messy pile in the corner of my study. As frustrated as they make me, I can’t bring myself to throw them away. It would be like getting rid of a part of Dan, and I could never do that.
I don’t know how long we sit there. Our coffees get cold while our fingers remain entwined. We sit in silence. To a passerby we could be a proper couple, sitting and enjoying each other’s company. We could be two people who have known each other for years and formed that special bond or connection that keeps people together for years and years. It is during this time, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine that I kid myself. I pretend that he remembers who I am and this is as normal and comfortable for him as it is for me. Already I can sense that it isn’t. The spontaneity of his gesture is being replaced by tension. His hand is stiffening in mine, thinking about whether to let go. I save him the trouble and untangle my fingers from his. He drops his hand into his lap and avoids my gaze. I put on a brave face and touch his arm lightly. He jumps, but I ignore it.
“Have you eaten? We can go and grab an early dinner somewhere if you’re hungry?”
“Um, are you sure? Don’t you have meetings and stuff? Other clients?”
I shake my head, “Just you.”

How did this happen? One minute I’m meeting someone professionally to discuss my work, and the next I have a date with an attractive woman. I can’t believe my luck! Most of my friends would be working overtime to bag a dinner date with a gorgeous blonde, and here I am enjoying a meal with a person I met literally hours ago. Something changed the moment I gave her my picture. I touched her hand and there was this incredible intimacy between us. It was so powerful. I wanted to pull away and apologise for being so forward, but I just couldn’t. It felt too…right? We have a lot in common. Over an array of tapas dishes, we discuss everything from politics to films to comic books. Hannah seems to share all of my passions. We flick from one subject to the next with surprising ease. We eat, we drink and we laugh. Before the food is gone, we even start finishing some of each other’s sentences!
We pay the bill. Half each, Hannah insists, and wander outside. The temperature has dropped since this afternoon and I see her try to disguise a shiver.
“Here, take this.”
I put my jacket around her shoulders and over her flimsy red coat. A smile dances across her lips and she rests her head on my chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I wrap my arms around her. It feels totally natural, as if we’ve been this way so many times before. I want to kiss her. Well, I want to do more than kiss her, but I’m scared that she’ll pull back and ruin this beautiful illusion I’ve created for myself. I needn’t have worried.
“Dan?”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me.”
I don’t need telling twice. I tilt her head towards my own and tentatively press my lips against hers. She responds, and we move rhythmically together. Desire stirs inside me and I pull her closer, pushing my hips against hers. Wanting.
“You still want to see more of my drawings?”
“Something like that…”
Giggling, she grabs my hand and waits as I guide her out of town and in the direction of my home.

I never do see any more of his drawings. I’m not even sure that they exist. By the time we enter his flat and his bedroom, all we want to see any more of is each other. Our kisses have become deeper and more urgent. Hands everywhere, we’re exploring each other’s bodies. For me there is familiarity. I feel the broad curve of his shoulders, the soft tuft of dark hair that trails from his belly button down into his trousers. It’s Dan. The man I know so well. The man I fell in love with. To him, I am someone brand new. A canvas as yet untouched by his hands. Everything will come as a surprise to him. The feel of my breasts, the small butterfly tattoo on my inner thigh. I wonder if he ever gets déjà vu or even a sense that we have been together before. Probably not. I can’t help thinking of myself as a one night stand in Dan’s eyes. A girl he’s just met and taken out for dinner coming so willingly back to his apartment for mindless sex that one of them will have forgotten in the morning. On the days that he doesn’t turn up to meet me, is he out doing this with other women? I wouldn’t blame him. It’s not the same for him as it is for me. I suffer the same repetitive routine every day just so that I can spend time with him. Every day I fall in love with him a little bit more and wish I could just fast forward to when we’re in his bedroom making love. For Dan, every time we meet is a first date and a first kiss. He feels the rush and the excitement of meeting someone new, the spontaneity of ending up in bed together. And then… he forgets. He wakes up to another day and another appointment. To another Hannah in another coffee shop. We will never just be Hannah and Dan.
“Hannah? Are you okay? God, I’m moving way too quickly aren’t I? Shit. I’ll stop…”
I realise that I have been staring over his shoulder, wrapped up in my thoughts. Oblivious to his kisses. I shake my head and smile.
“No it’s fine… it’s, well it’s amazing…”
I pull him towards me once more and kiss him hard.
“I want you,” I whisper, reaching to unzip his jeans.

“Hannah, that was… Wow…”
I ease my arm around her shoulders and pull her close to me. We’re both breathing heavily, hearts pounding. She tilts her head upward and kisses me lightly on the lips. We lie there for a while, naked but content. Lazily entwined together. I don’t know what time it is, but I don’t want to look at the clock. I already feel I’ve rather outstretched my luck. Gorgeous, successful, attractive women like Hannah don’t fall for wannabe comic book artists like me.
“Do you want me to get you a taxi or something? Or you can stay in here and I’ll take the sofa…”
She raises herself onto her elbow so that she is staring down into my eyes.
“Can I stay here? With you?”
As unexpected as her answer is, I am elated to hear it. She wants to stay. This wasn’t just passionate sex followed by an awkward exit, this was something more. She wants to be with me.

He lets me stay the night. We slide under the covers and wrap up warm together. Dan falls asleep almost instantly, an arm tossed casually across my body. He stirs and mumbles something. I wonder what he is dreaming. Something to make him forget. I wriggle away from his touch and move carefully out of the covers and into the room. Scrabbling to find my clothes, I can’t help watching him. He looks so peaceful and normal. I want more than anything to be able to wake up next to him. To raise him from his sleep with a light kiss on the lips. I wish we could have a lazy morning together, making coffee and enjoying breakfast. Maybe followed by sex and a shared shower. I want to be a normal couple, but I know that if I stay, he won’t remember me in the morning. Sighing, I leave him sleeping and go to sit at his desk. His journal is still open to the page of our last meeting. I scrawl it out with a black marker and turn to the date of the following day. Neatly, I write in the details of what will be our next meeting:

THURSDAY 13TH MARCH: CAFE VERO 4PM. BLONDE WEARING A PURPLE DRESS.

Before I leave, I always say goodbye to Dan. I kiss his forehead and tell him that I love him over and over. I can never be certain that he will look in his journal. It may be some time before I am able to bump into him again. I can’t help worrying that one day he might drift away and I won’t know where to find him. Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I stand up to leave.
“Don’t forget me.”