December 17 - the first time we went to the airport. It was my idea really; the airport had always been one of my favourite places. Before Anne, I was a loner, and the viewing gallery was a good place to be alone.

It took us a while to decide where to sit down; she was quite fussy about the view, and we finally settled at the most centralized pillar, slightly left of the middle. If I close my eyes now I can still remember the view, the planes on our left and right, the runway, the endless road, the trees beyond.

I used to confuse our pillar with the ones next to it though, and I always got a teasing reproach from her for being so forgetful.

We always settled down on the floor. She would rest her head on my shoulder, and I would inhale the wonderful floral smell of her hair, her beautiful hair. I even bought a bottle of her shampoo to bring with me wherever I went to remind me of her, but somehow it just wasn't quite the same.

All the memories we had, seated there at our pillar. Kisses. Contentment. Valentines Day, when we exchanged gifts and held each other close.

Who would have known, that this was where it was to end.