Almost... lovers?

Pushing the cover aside, her fingers lightly brushed over the glossy paper. Her eyes devoured the vivid colours that brought her pain and pleasure. Pleasure in the talent and devotion taken to create them. Pain when her mind turned to reflect on the past, and the period in which she acquired the works of art.

Familiar names sprang to life. She did not know them, they were merely familiar in the sense that she could match the artist with the piece. As the pages turned, one particular name caught her eye.

In bold blue font, was the name of a man she had come to know so well. Too well.

And then, it hit her. She was dumbstruck.

Years ago, the name before her was one of a complete stranger. She did not know who he was, or where he was from. Whether he enjoyed summer days, or winter nights. How old he was, or how he liked his tea. At present, the name printed on the paper struck something within her. Something deep, surreal, and extraordinary. Something she could never think to live without. He use to be a nobody, a nothing. Now, he meant the world to her.

A smile touched her lips as she sacredly closed the booklet.

His work once swept her off her feet. As it appears, he has as well.

The irony of it all.