I wrote this about the last time I went to Wellington

The young man had flown in to the city that morning. True to form, it had been very windy and bitingly cold. He had sent her a text message and caught a bus from the airport to the train station.
Now, walking along The Terrace, he could feel the anticipation rising. Having walked the roads of the central city many times, he was moving on auto-pilot - wearing a large coat and backpack, a sports bag in his arms, and his mind on only one thing.
His eyes were focused toward the horizon of the footpath, waiting to see her. It was lunchtime, busy, people everywhere. That's not her. That's not her either.
Then, unmistakeably, walking towards him - there she was.
Her arms folded as she walked to keep warm. A smile shot across his face; she broke in to a little skipping run.
He dropped his bags and embraced her.
A most perfect moment.
Two people, together, alone in the city.
Holding her, his face pressed into her soft hair.
'I missed you,' she said. Barely able to find the words,
'I missed you, too,' he replied.