Her being here could not be coincidence.   He could not believe that, despite the fact that he’d told no-one where he’d intended going.   Had only decided himself yesterday, a spur of the moment idea, out of nowhere, knowing that he had seven days to fill ...   
Ah, but ...
And he thought back to yesterday morning, not when he had finally awoken, but earlier, when it had still been dark, the roads around him silent.   What had disturbed him then?   None of the usual things, he knew that ... and then he remember the dream he had had ...
She had been, not in it but hovering on the edge, unseen, unheard and, to be honest, unnoticed at the time.   Only now did he remember ...
He looked at her now, her physical self.   Almost as tall as him – he remembered a time when she was taller, tormenting him – her eyes as dark as her hair, strands of which blew across her face, her skin the colour of outdoors, shadows smudged around her eyes, eyes which regarded him with amusement.
‘You came.’


Friday: In a dream I had