The sun is rising slowly, burning red and orange between a landscape of steel and glass. New York in the spring; my favourite place in the world. My favourite time too, early morning, and just as the city is starting to stir. I clutch the glass to my chest, the last few drops of tequila in the bottom glowing in the half-light. It's been a long night, but worth it for these few moments of bliss. I would give anything to live these few precious minutes forever. There will never be a moment more perfect than this.

Silently I turn to face the room. Golden fingers of sunlight pick their way across the floor, bathing their obstacles in a warming glow. I follow their path with my eyes, my gaze finally falling upon the figure lying on the bed. His rhythmic breathing allows me my time to memorise his face without fear of discovery. I want to remember everything, so when I'm alone later, I can take out the memories, one by one, polish them, and smooth away the cracks, 'til I'm left with what should have been. No baggage, no Jack Daniels, no psycho ex-wife. Just him, me and  New York in the spring.

The sun rests on the top of the building opposite; my cue to leave. Placing the empty glass on the table next to my keys I steal one last glance at him before I walk out of the door for the last time.