8
Victor Gianni, with his honey-colored hair, entrancing sea-green eyes, imposing figure, and his impeccable posture, stood next to his car. In my world, the real world. Not in a vision.
“How do you know his name?” Raisa asked.
Unable to find my voice, I shrugged. Besides, how could I answer that I had dreamed about him for the last nine months. And, until now, I had no idea he actually existed.
Nonetheless, there he was.
I squinted, analyzing him. His physical appearance, the car, and the setting were known to me, and yet he seemed different.
In my dreams, he was buoyant and romantic. He smiled and winked and spun me around imaginary ballrooms and danced with me in the middle of the street. He was my Prince Charming, born to make me happy, be my best friend, and some day, be my love
