"Maybe I just don't want another rejection," he shrugs. "I've had enough of that in my so-called acting career." Oh, so this is what it's all about. "But you're not auditioning for a role," I try to persuade him. "Aren't I?" he raises his eyebrows.

I don't understand it myself, really. It's like the idea of him is better than the him of him

Too many people miss out on real love because they're too busy waiting for the ONE to show up

consider the implications. We think we know what we want, but we can never really know until we've got it. And sometimes when we have, we discover we never really wanted it in the first place - but then it's too late

We are the sum total of our memories. Memories are the most precious things we have. Good or bad. That's what make us who we are. What would we be without them?

And so taking the long way home through the market I slow my pace down. It doesn't come naturally. My legs are programmed to trot briskly and my arms to pump up and down like pistons, but I force myself to stroll past the stalls and pavement cafes. To enjoy just being somewhere, rather than rushing from somewhere, to somewhere. Inhaling deep lungfuls of air, instead of my usual shallow breaths. I take a moment to just stop and look around me. And smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I can, quite literally, smell the coffee.

He hadn't lost Grace. Because she'd never been his to lose in the first place.