When she first talked to him, she couldn’t have known that he would be hers. What she knew was that he was special.

They met by chance, in the queue for the tills at Primark. All it took was her curse and his agreement and the conversation sparked. Any other queue-meeters would have paid for their basket, shared a smile and gone on to lead their seperate lives. But instead, he waited for her by the shop entrance and conned her of her phone number with his charming smile.

They walked to her car, talking endlessly about music and the strange antics of their doped up friends and relatives. As she slotted her key into the door he leaned on one hand and flashed his grin. The other hand, he wound around her waist as she marvelled at his candour.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and everything that the other kisses in her life hadn’t been.

But then one of her fingers brushed a ring on her finger. She stalled for a moment, then melted into his arms, wanting her last night of freedom to be absolutely perfect.