She was always bumping into him. They’d known each other for quite a while now. He was tall and slim, dark-haired and – unusual for an Italian, perhaps – green-eyed.

Francesco Molilino was pleasant to look at, if not drop-dead handsome. Smooth and suave, he was always impeccably dressed. Though he might not be super-wealthy, he had class and style. And he reminded her of a Lamborghini Miura; that beautiful car which was inspired by the unbeatable (at Le Mans) Ford GT40. A black Miura, naturally.

They were good friends, she and Mr Molilino – well, he’d rescued her from impossible situations on a number of occasions, and she was convinced their relationship was developing as it should.

True, there had not been a great deal to mention on the physical side (was he gay, all her friends wanted to know. As if that was the only explanation) apart from fleeting touches as soft as a downy breast feather from an eider duck. They really were such good friends, and emotionally intimate. Just like soul-mates, she thought.

Yet where was it all leading? Could their relationship be stuck in a time-warp, forever drifting in cyberspace? Not if she could help it.

When are we going to meet him, her friends enquired. Well, he might have a brother or a cousin. It wasn’t easy for girls living in the big bad city to meet the perfect gentleman. Especially one who appeared to have some cash to spare.

So, she dreamed up another impossible situation and awaited her hero’s attentions. Sure enough, he didn’t fail her. And, having carried out the role of a chivalrous knight in shining armour, Francesco stooped slightly to claim his reward. His lips met hers as he held her tightly in that long-desired, long-awaited embrace. But then, much to her dismay, he began to fade – just like that poem Simon and Garfunkel had meant to write.

Waking in disappointment, she sighed sadly and sat up. Astoundingly, there on the bedside cabinet was the most beautiful bouquet, impeccably wrapped. Just like those really expensive ones you see in the flower shop at “One Aldwych”. She read the accompanying card – “To my dear true love and soul-mate. Forever yours, FM”. She sighed again, this time with such pleasure.