This one is not my own idea, but rather one I spotted on an account I follow on Instagram. It's not a writing prompt account, but a kinky one. I've changed it a tad bit though.
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Opening my eyes, I am met with the lovely interior of a local café. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods fills my nostrils when I take in a breath. It's the same sight, same smell I've experienced before, but it never fails to relax me and put me at a sense of ease.

I'm caught in a moment of bliss before I hear the jingle of the bell. Even after seeing the same image before, my breath hitches in my throat.

Her lovely hair framing her face, her gentle smile, even her chipped nail polish. All of them bring me back.

She walks past me to the counter to order. I catch a whiff of her favorite perfume, a scent I know all too well. I almost call her name and reach for her hand until I remember, she doesn't know me yet.

Waiting for her to take her seat, I move to a corner and pretend to examine the mugs and other accessories for sale.

When her order comes she pulls out a chair by the big windows in the front, I take my time walking over there. Once there, I place my hand atop the chair opposite hers and ask, "May I sit here?"

She looks up and blushes slightly. "Of course you may." Looking back down at her coffee, she tries to distract herself with picking more of her nail polish.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." I quote.

She looks up in surprise. She loves Shakespeare. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

I laugh. "We really must meet each other again sometime." I say wantonly, grabbing a napkin and asking her for a pen.

After writing my number and sliding it to her, I stand and exit the familiar place.

Right as I step foot outside, I am thrown into another memory. This time, a birthday party.

I travel through many memories, some sad, some filled with anger, but mostly happy. The night I proposed, our wedding, bringing our twins home. I live through everything again.

I see us start to age, her face showing more lines as days pass but still looking absolutely stunning. Both of us start to weaken.

I relive my grandsons first home run. Then the day he got married and meeting my great granddaughter. She has her great grandmother's eyes.

Another few years go by. The saddest years of my life. My wife is diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

Day by day her memory gets worse. It started small, she couldn't remember recipes. But as time went on she forgot how to brush her teeth, how to get dressed and how to read.

The day she forgot me was the day my spirit was finally crushed.

Its one of the hardest things in the world to see, my love being taken away from me slowly.

If I had thought I was hurt before, it was nothing like when she forgot to breathe.

Calling 911 and sitting on the floor with her, watching her still beautiful but worn face going shades of red, purples and blues, is when I lost all hope for myself.

She died in the hospital in the next hour.

It was two weeks later at her funeral that is how I'm here. I've heard people say that before you die, your entire life is replayed in your mind. In my case, that is true.

But many people also say that it is not possible to die of a broken heart. To them I will say, that they have never truely loved.