In her mind she organised the day, hid little treats around the house, his favourite things and she baked. Tiny cakes and tiny biscuits as though they lived in a magical world. She iced everything with silver letters, anagrams of their favourite words and she watched him as he ate. One letter after another, sugared syntax on his tongue and he was happy. 

She loved to bake, she liked to feed him and later she set up the annual treasure hunt. Clues were presented in unusual places and the more he searched the younger he became. 

And the younger he became, the more they merged. Together, hand in hand they moved back in time until he caught her eye by the school gate and she looked down. And up. She looked back up at him and smiled. They walked towards the bottom end of town, to the park by the swimming pool and round the back, under the bridge, in the shadows he pulled her into him and kissed her. It was the most obvious thing and somehow as their lips collided it shuddered through the years as though she was an older woman looking back. 

They walked on, arms linked, talking nonsense, laughing. And at the turning for her road he said he’d meet her in morning, he might be a little late.

‘Wait here for me?’ he said. And she nodded, ‘I’ll be waiting,’ kissed his cheek and turned to go then stopped.

‘Oh, I made lemon drizzle today in food-tech, got loads, d’you want some?’ and she pulled the tupperware out from her bag, flicked the lid off and gave the cake to him, soft and moist, sugared in tiny stars. 

She pushed it into his mouth with pen stained fingertips, it melted on his tongue and he swallowed. 

‘Pretty good,’ he said. ‘Yeah, pretty good,’ he smiled, and it was and she was and they were. 

Then. 

And now.

And always.

x