Magic crackled in the air, nothing a stranger could put their finger on, the same old curtains still swept down to brush the same old dusty window sill where an ashtray from Blackpool still served to hold pins. On the dressing table coffee cup rings still lingered amongst the moisturiser, L'Air du Temps, ear-rings, bracelets and a counterfeit Rolex that hadn't run for years. No clue there then but wait, what sorcery is this in the mirror? A reflection of a radiant more vibrant couple than of late busily preparing for a holiday they hoped might double as a second honeymoon
Perfume invaded the senses, hands more familiar with checkouts and gas pipes found each other more easily. A gentle contact that spoke much without saying a word as fingers touched too often to be accidental and the pace of packing although seemingly unrushed bore an exquisite tempo - a shortness of breath for her, difficulty swallowing for him and a deliciously exciting fluttering of the heart for them both
How high the price of busy lives and how short the time dividing sweethearts from exhausted automata switching off each night in grateful sleep. Yet here was living proof that love can be rekindled manifesting itself in the simple act of packing a suitcase - a special case mind you - concealing something skimpy, something daring and something or nothing for the beach and that was just his case
