It was on his second day back to normality that it all started.
On the Underground, on his way to work.
A train, running in the opposite direction, offered for a few seconds the view of the interior of its carriage.
George looked up, over his newspaper. And saw her.
It was difficult not to notice her.
Standing in between commuters in suits, workers' uniforms, books, iPods and newspapers. Wearing a red evening gown. Her blond hair long on her shoulders. Her piercing eyes staring at him.
She smiled.
The trains separated, left the interjunction and entered parallel tunnels.
She was gone.
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