Just a dream.

The tiles stung the calloused heels of my sun stained feet and my hair hung limply around my shoulders. I looked over at him, swaying in the cob-web matted hammock and remembered what had attracted me to him so many years ago, remembered why we'd never lost our spark. His soft hair, his caramel skin, his hazel eyes, the unexpected wit. We had spent so many Summer's lounging in the small dishevelled yard and yet something had changed this January.
It wasn't that his nails had grown although that was surprising. The pile of canvas shoes that sat comfortably next to the torn screen door had gathered dust. They were fashionable when we studied Vis Com and Media years ago and since their glory days they had lay strewn across our Prahran veranda. That was something that hadn't changed since VCE.
I still got chills whenever he handed me the dark sun tan oil and smiled, half heartidly concealing his crooked front tooth. We had joked about it for years and yet it was that smile that made me fall in love with him so many Summers ago.

I sauntered over to the hammock and could hear his ipod from what felt like a mile away. I had selfishly littered his music player with my favourite old school chillout albums and he was playing a song we used to cook to when we lived with his family. The Monaco Bar he'd been feasting on sat in his lap and was melting all over the shorts I had bought him last Christmas.
I hoped it would wash out easily.