She turned quickly, pulling away from the unexpected touch. The first glimpse he had of her expression showed annoyance. He let go of her coat. Started to stammer an apology. But then her expression changed, the anger vanished, and he saw her eyes lighten as she recognised him. Her hair was stripes of pink and purple blowing in the breeze.

‘Oh, hello, James,’ she said. ‘It’s been a while.’

She held out her hand, and he took it. Her soft leather-gloved hand in his bare palm, held beneath his fingers.

‘Oh,’ he said. It was all he could manage. He swallowed. Felt a warmth in his chest, spreading through his body. He was shaking now. His knees.

She pulled her hand away, gently, and looked at him. Her eyes, that deep brown sparkling with gold. In that moment, if she’d asked him to leave his wife and children and follow her across the world, he would have said yes.

But at the same time he hardly knew her at all. Not in the way that he knew Julianne. Avigail was brighter than everything else because she was out of reach. It wasn’t logical. In fact it was absurd. The colours of her eclipsed the rest of the city. They eclipsed the sky. He didn’t know how it was possible to feel such a deep longing for something he had never had.

She took a step back. Her eyes were different again, kinder, and he realised he had been staring, standing and staring and reaching out his hand towards hers even though she’d pulled away. A gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and she pushed it out of her face and held it back against her head. The need he felt for her. For just a touch. Once she had ruffled his hair, as you might a child – he’d take that. Or, another time, she’d grabbed his arm when he was about to step out into traffic. He imagined her touching his face, where his chin curved to his neck. If this was to be the last time, could he kiss her cheek, the way friends did, these days, in London?

She was shaking her head a little, her eyes squinting in the brightness of the sun.

‘Take care, James,’ she said, turning, leaving him standing in a slush of what was once beautiful snow. He felt the colours drain out of the world, her bright red coat dimming as she walked away. So he closed his eyes, scrunched them tight and told himself the feeling filling his body was relief. Nothing would have to change. He could live his life the way he’d planned. He opened his eyes and walked, briskly, avoiding the puddles, to work.