A low hanging sun back-lights red and orange leaves, making them glow like fire; like the colour of her hair.
The sandstone steps and castle walls compliment the patches of emerald grass; the shade of her skin and cast of her eyes.
Following shadows, he walks down uneven steps to the riverside.
He passes cafes. Inhales the smell of cooking, but keeps walking.
Up the cobbled hill, an incongruous blue train pulls into the old-world station.
Smiling for the boy who loved to watch the trains, he reaches Market Square; full of stalls, but empty of her.
He walks on.