The Girl of my Dreams (standard:romance, 1000 words)
Author: makepeaceken	Added: Nov 17 2022	Views/Reads: 736/500	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I am busy writing when I get a knock at the door. One of my neighbours has lost her dog. I help her search. Is the girl of my dreams about to come into my life? I'm about to find out.

I am sitting composing yet another story - what about? That remains to
be seen. It could be about love or war but maybe it is about nothing at 
all. 

As I keep writing, I happen to glance out of the window and I see my
neighbour, with her hair so golden, and her eyes so blue. I hope she is 
heading my way, but then I begin to doubt it. Then I see her passing my 
window without a sigh. 

Days later, I am busy again typing when there is a knock at my door, and
on opening it, there she stands, leaving me wondering what she is going 
to ask. 

‘Hello,' I say when I open the door. 

‘Oh, hello. I wonder if you can help me?' 

‘I'll try. What's the matter?' 

‘It is my little dog. He has gone missing.' 

‘Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to help you look for
him?' 

‘Yes, if you wouldn't mind?' 

Wouldn't mind? I can not believe she is saying these words. We live
across from each other and this is the first time we have stood close 
to one another. 

She waits till I go and fetch my jacket. My heart is all of a flutter. I
wish I could thank her dog for going missing. He is doing me a favour, 
but I reckon he doesn't realise it. 

We set off along the road that leads to the park. I often go there
myself to think. I usually find a quiet little spot and just sit with 
my notebook in hand. Sometimes I feed the ducks, and on odd occasions, 
I take pictures of them with my phone's camera. How I have spent many 
an afternoon in that park. Sometimes, if there were no children around, 
I would go sit on one of the swings, which would make me feel like a 
child again. 

As we carry on towards the park, I ask her her name. I only know her
surname - Watkins - Miss Watkins. I couldn't keep on calling her that. 
Anyway, it turns out to be Amy - a sweet name for a sweet person. 

Just as we enter the park she says: 

‘I hope we find him. I have had him since he was a pup. I wouldn't know
what I would do if I lost him.' 

I am trying to think of words to give her comfort, but nothing is
coming.  Then, before I can say anything, she spots something. 

‘Did you see that?' she asks?' 

‘See what?' I reply. 

‘It is Bunty. He has just gone rushing from behind that tree. He's
heading towards the lake.' 

I try hard not to laugh - imagine a dog being called Bunty. It sounds so
upper-class. 

‘Are you sure?' I ask her. 

‘I'm positive. Come on, if he gets in the lake, we'll never get him
out.' 

Sure enough, when we get to the lake there he is - in the water, chasing
a duck. He looks happy as he charges about, drenching a fisherman at 
the lake's edge in the process. The man starts to shake his fist in 
anger. 

As soon as Bunty sees us, he gives up the chase and comes charging


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