Beyond the arrival of his visitor, there are only fragments, intangible as fog, turning to nothing whenever he tries to touch them. Echoes of conversation, of a familiar voice, like the memory of a dream. The after-taste of firm resolve, sweet and bitter like sugared coffee.

You use such beautiful phrasing in this fic. It make for a pleasurable, sensual read. Like each paragraph is a dark chocolate bon bon. Does that make any sense? :)