How many times had she come back to this place without him? It was common to see her sitting on that bench, a book closed on her lap, eyes closed, before the sunset. Teenagers walking by would often dismiss her, seeing her there day after day. A few of the girlfriends would speculate romantically for half a mile or so, and then forget her completely until the next time. Several boyfriends, though not many, would cast a fleetingly cursory glance her way. The majority would see her, and wonder what kind of man he must have been to warrant a visit to this spot every sunset, for four years.

Four years had drifted by since that sunset, and every moment of her life was spent in a world without him. She let people speculate the circumstances of her loneliness, let them wonder. In the end they never guessed correctly.

She still felt his hand in hers, smelled his cologne on the air. She felt him right beside her, his breath soft and even beside her, in her ear. Watching the sunset with her eyes closed, she would know exactly what it looked like. She saw the same sunset every day, not a single discrepancy in it, not a single flaw. Every evening the same sunset, the same one she watched with him.

Maybe her lover died in some freak accident. Girls speculated the tragedy that had befallen her young love. How old was she? She could only be in her early twenties, barely grown. What kind of heartrending love story had she lived at such a young age, to not bounce back immediately? Maybe her lover died out at sea. That would explain why she sat at the beach each day. Was she waiting for him to return from his trip? How long had she known him, to be this affected? She may have known him from her childhood, a friend turned lover. What kind of romance had they led coming through the familiarity of friendship to something so much more? Maybe her lover was killed in a holdup. Was the scene of the crime near here? Did she watch it happen, was she there? Had she held him in her arms as he bid farewell to the only woman he ever loved? What must it have been like to feel the life drain from her, even as it drained from him?

The speculations were never true. She knew they weren't. No one could guess the reason she sat here, night after night, feeling the sunset. How long had it been? Sometimes she forgot the days. Fourteen hundred eighty two days? Yes, that sounded right. Let them speculate, it never mattered to her. Let them wonder about her broken heart, and let them wonder how long it would take to mend it. It didn't matter anymore. In a few months it would all be over. The loneliness, the heartache, the empty nights filled with tears. She would be with him again. Every moment spent she was a moment nearer to him.

How long had she been sitting here? The sun had long gone down, the night had cooled considerably, and she was still sitting here. Young lovers graced the benches around her, maintaining their distance, their speculations drifting over her. Maybe her lover.

"You know, I'm pretty sure the sun has been down for about an hour now." the voice that came from behind her made her heart go still. That disembodied voice made her palms sweat, and her chest tighten. She had waited so long to hear that voice. Four years had gone by since it had been that close to her.

She turned toward the voice, wishing against wish that it wasn't a daydream.

Shhh, someone's talking to her. the words drifted over her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, seeing him standing over her. "You aren't supposed to be back for another few months."

"Surprise," he said, smiling down at her.

Who is that?

She stood, shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement. "I missed you," she whispered, turning around to face him.

His long legs folded over the bench and he reached for her. His military greens dashing in the moonlight. "I love you, too," he whispered, reaching out his arms. She fell into them, her whole body longing to be held.

"How did you know to find me here?" she asked.

"Because every time I closed my eyes for these four years, this is what I always saw. This place, that sunset." He replied.

"How did you sleep?" she half-joked.

"I don't want to talk about sleeping, I want to go home," he said, holding her close. "No more solitary sunsets."

Do you think she's happy now?

They strolled away into the midnight, hand in hand. No more solitary sunsets.