Mistaken Identity

I remember his eyes, soft warm brown like melted toffee on crunchy apples. When they looked into mine, I knew we were meant to be. His voice was soothing like the gently hush of a distant waterfall. He sighed when he called my name. I remember the firm masculine hands when he held the nape of my neck, reassuringly. His warm sweet lips like nectar; teasing and dancing a slow waltz with mine, sending shock waves down my spine. We were meant to be. We should be together, forever.

“Claire, are you still day dreaming about that bloke?” Josephine pulled my arm, jarring me from his arms. She stood almost snowed over with clothes. “You can’t carry on like this you know. You haven’t even picked up anything yet. You’re messing up our shopping day out.”

“But Josephine, how would you know if…” I pleaded, following behind her down the aisle.

“No buts Claire. He said he was sorry that it was all a mistake.”

“Did you see the way he looked into my eyes?”

Josephine stopped suddenly. I bumped into her and we almost toppled over. “It was a mistaken identity. He thought you were his wife. That’s all there is to it.”

“Admit it Josephine, you were as stumped as I was when he held me in his arms.” I held myself, rolled my eyes and tried to remember yesterday. “He… he’s so perfect.”

“Yeah right! There’s no such thing as a perfect man.”

“You’re just jealous just because he chose me and not you.”

“Me, jealous? Get real Claire. He didn’t choose you. The guy is partially blind for Pete’s sake. You simply had the same name as his wife.”