The Girl in The Mustard Yellow Scarf.

She has a scarf the colour fashion magazines call mustard yellow around her head. A pair of classic sunglasses covered the dark eyes. Adele sang about first love into her ears as she stood on a rough, grass grown pavement with her eyes on the approaching cars. None were the one she's waiting for.

A quick glance at the watch on her right wrist.

A soft silent sigh.

She swirled her head to the right, wondering if she should go buy some fresh mango slices from the nice lady at the roadside stall about 35 steps away.

She swirled her head to the left, for another look if the car is in sight.

It wasn't.

Mid swirl, she stopped. Her eyes locked at a spot. And her world turned black and white.

Time stopped for her.

And in the way life seems to work, the song seemed to play from around her. As if she's in a movie made by a fresh eyed romantic director.

In the world of black and white, she was of colour, the mustard yellow scarf as evidence.

In the world of black and white, she saw one car of colour. Parked at a spot she clearly remembered.

And in the way a romance movie sometimes work, her memory hit on a replay button.

She remembered the way her nerves were jumping around like beans in a pan. The smell of vanilla on her paisley patterned shawl. The way she stopped at one spot and looked to the left, and paused.

The angle of his raised hand. The tilt of his head. The way the sun shined against his sunglasses. The way his lips formed silently around her name.

The taste of hope in her mouth.

And with a rush of wind in her ears everytime went back to normal. There was no car there. No sight that makes her heart jumped into her mouth.

The song switched in her earphones. A stranger walked by, their bag clipping against her arm.

Her lips quirked up into a wistful smile but there was no trace of regret. As her ride approaches from afar, she gave one last look at that spot.

Her steps were positive and proud of herself as she walks away. There were no what-if for her.