God, you were stunning.

He'd go to bed around 11 pm, just to see you. You'd appear often in his dreams. No, every day. Before you, he was restless, usually up until 4 am just staring at his ceiling, thinking about all the things he'd done wrong in his life. Yet you gave him motivation to think of something else besides his constant errors.

He was thankful, to say the least. That's why he'd go to sleep at 11, without fail. Usually, the projection of his dream would always be something similar. You wearing some beautiful floral, white dress, in a field of flowers. Or in a dog park, or on a beach, or near a stream. Somewhere beautiful, although he'd hardly be paying attention to the stupid landscape.

Not when you were there. You'd hear his footsteps behind you in the dream, and glance over your shoulder at him, maybe smile or wave him over. And just as he'd step towards you, or reach out to touch your shoulder, maybe your hair, you'd disappear. In the sense that he'd wake up. It was insane to him how such a short moment could last from 11 pm to 8 am. Maybe 9.

He thought you weren't real. You were too beautiful and gentle and perfect to be real. So why the hell could he see you right now? There you were, the cashier at a new grocery store that had opened up near his house. He had to stare at your face to process what he was seeing for a few moments, before your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Oh god. She's talking to me. She sounds the same as in the dream. This was all he could think. Sure, your hair was a bit shorter than expected, and you had eye-bags and dark circles around your eyes. Really, everything else was the same. The same beautiful, ethereal woman he'd see from 11 pm-8 am.

He cleared his throat, mustering a small, polite smile as he glanced down at his little haul of veggies and other miscellaneous things. God, he looked like shit right now. What horrible timing. Nevertheless, his eyes flickered up to your face.

"Just these, please, thank you so much.", He gently said, nodding.