'Dear Mom, how are you? My life is better than ever before. I'm well paid, famous (people even recognize me in the streets!) and it seems, I'm in love again. Yes, that girl from Sweden - your feelings can't be wrong, can they? She's very nice, sweet and lovely. I'm sure, you'll like her at the first sight; one just can't resist her charm and aura, believe me. It's too early to promise, but I'll try to take her with me next time when I come to you. I'm happy to hear that Dad's fully recovered, pass him my love, Rob'.

Their meetings were seldom: his job required him to travel a lot; her job required the same. But they both loved to see each other. At first, their dates took place only in her or his flats: despite he loved her, he felt uneasy to show in public with stunning blonde three heads taller than him. Even at home he tried to avoid mirrors: he didn't like himself seen next to a girl whose lovely breasts were full head (full breast?) higher than the top of his head. He was like a dwarf at the side of fully-grown young woman.

As the time passed, however, he got used to be with Breta, to feel her immense presence, to look constantly up - way up - at her, to tilt his neck whenever he wanted to talk to her, no matter was she standing or sitting: even when sitting on a chair or a kitchen stool, she was much taller than he was. The only exclusion was a deep leather sofa in his flat. When Breta lowered onto it, he could come closer and, standing up next to her, look her in the eye with no need to crane his neck.

He got used to her tallness so much that already couldn't imagine he could have relationship with somebody shorter than her. In fact, he couldn't imagine he could have relationship with somebody else at all. Apparently, she felt the same. Her only complain was their loneliness; couple of times she hinted that would be nice to go out - to cinema, cafe or a disco, and finally he agreed.

'Hi Mom, don't hurry please - I will visit you and hope, it'll be soon, but work and stuff make the decision too hard to make. I promise to call you as soon as I know the date of my trip to you for sure, okay? And yes, I certainly try Breta to make it too. But this factor only makes it more difficult: she's got one show after another and can't find a window in her schedule so far. But we keep working on it, and eventually it'll be solved.

Take care and don't be upset: look, winter is already over! Kisses, Rob'.

Their first time out was a test for his self-constraint. She wore the lowest shoes available, but still towered over him like a telegraph pole. He knew, she was more than 30 inches taller, and all the people around knew that too. They moaned and gasped as Rob and Breta passed them, but she told him, it could have been worse if she was alone. 'At least, nobody asked me whether I play basketball or what's the weather up here, or can I see a flat in the first floor, or openly compared their heights with mine, or asked me to walk through a door to watch me bending... This is a real achievement!'

'Do they do those weird things often?' Robin was unpleasantly surprised to hear that.

'All the time. It's not easy to be 'the tallest human being on this planet,' she quoted his interview. 'And that picture with car park crossbar - it only seem to be fun to have things like this at the level of your stomach, but have you ever walked into an entrance which top is up to your chest?'

He was confused.

'Then our next trip should be to the Legoland,' she laughed. 'You know, they have a whole town there scaled down for little kids. I think you could find a proper door there to try on.'

They finished their coffee and stood up to come to a cinema. She chose Odeon in Leicester Square. 'They provide fairly good legroom between rows,' she added. This was an unbeatable argument. Frankly speaking, he liked the place too and would choose it as well, if only... If he was alone. This time however it was hell. Every single person stared at them. Tourists pointed cameras on them, and all he could hear was myriads of clicks, and all he could see was shrapnel of flashes. He tried to imagine two of them to be a movie stars rushing to a premiere, to ignore the looks and kept walking proudly by his gorgeous towering companion through the crowd to the ticket office.

Once they reached the end of the queue, he asked her to bend down and as she did, whispered into her ear, 'Let's sell tickets for them with permission to stare!'

'Why, do you think I'm a circus freak or maybe giraffe?' she pretended to be offended, but in a second burst to laugh. 'It could be a good idea, you know. At least, we'd make some money of my unbearable highness.'

'Who told you that you were unbearable?' Breta already stretched up, and he almost shouted these words to be heard by her. 'You are more than bearable!'

She laughed again. 'I'm glad to hear that, but I doubt you could bear me. I mean, in physical meaning.'

'What, lift you?' He liked the game: at least, it made him able to switch his attention off those annoying eyes around. 'Can your highness wait till home?'

They were already at the ticket window when Robin realized, he forgot his wallet at home. He checked the pockets and found only a fiver and some change - obviously not enough to let them in.

'Sorry Breta, do you have any cash? I'll refund it as soon as I get my cards.'

She couldn't hear him: she was too high above. She realized he was saying something, but couldn't bend this time: they were surrounded by dense crowd gathered at the cash office. Therefore, she did something that was purely natural for her, but people around were shocked. She lowered on her knees almost levelling herself with Robin and said, 'What?'

He was stunned too, but managed to repeat his question.

'Oh yes, of course I do,' she said and stood up again to reach into pocket of her custom-made jeans. 'Oops, no cash, but they take Visa.'

Another bend, this time to the window. This innocent act made the crowd gasp.

The windowsill was up to an average person's middle chest. For Breta, however, it was at mid-thigh level. She turned back, apologized to people behind, took a step backward - and lowered her upper half to the window while her legs fully stretched. 'It was my usual fitness exercise,' she told him later when asked why she'd chosen to do that instead of bending her knees.

It was a marvellous sight from afar: longer than life pair of legs in tight blue jeans, then cute round bottom, or rather 'uppom' due to its position above ground, then 80-degree angle, then pink suede jacket, and finally - slightly lower than bum - beautiful blonde head.

The sight was so unusual that some guy came to Breta from behind, turned his back towards her, and smiled to his friend's camera with his head at the level of that nice round bottom of hers. Luckily, Robin didn't see it: he was busy asking the cashier which row had the most spacey legroom.