Old Flame.

A little tired and unfocused I am just about to exit the station for Croydon, a place I once frequently habituated. Always seeming to be a bit of a blur to me, with it's grey skies and non nondescript buildings.Tall and new, all voice and no character. If they could talk they would merely yawn.  Oh there are some lovely parts too, parts where you move to in sought of that family life, to the long, wide, windy roads, and the set back houses, but the town has quite a generic face to it; working class, busy, mums, tracksuits, student bars, not particularly trendy. Well, we can't all be cool - sorry. Wearing my long puffa jacket with it's fur hood, I am here merely physically, so essentially I am absent - my mind is elsewhere. My mind is in Latin America, in a hot climate, exploring a town, wondering along the path of a stream, with pebbles pressed in the palm of my hand, the cool breeze stroking my face to ease the heavy sun. Now I am conversing with a local woman in a draped garment - my mind never stops. It races to the future, it warps back to the past. Sometimes I reckon I really can time travel, this mind of mine can take me anywhere. It can transport me to particular moments and to what exact emotion I possessed while I was there, like the first time I rode my bike in the car park downstairs, at the back of my block of flats. It was a shiny red bike for a boy, yet my parents didn't seem to realise so upon purchase.

That was a great birthday, I would awake mum and dad at the crack of dawn, pitch black in December, a depressive hour really. Yet it would become so joyful as they would lead me through to the living room, automatically awake, Daddy nearly as excited as I as they guided me towards the nestling treasure which would be perfectly arranged by Mummy.  

Daddy would push the back of the bike and run behind me as I cycled frantically, trying to stay a balance until one moment, I looked back and Daddy was standing there in his big leather jacket watching me, possibly with a cigarette in hand. Standing and watching as I cycled freely, surely stabilizers don't count. A proud moment, my head can still whip back now and see his face, only a glimmer of emotion, no smiles, no applause, but a twinkle in the eye - I did it. That's what life is made up from isn't it; moments. Some we remember, some we don't.

I'm dragging a bag of presents in a suitcase behind me, walking towards the ticket barrier to continue onward with my journey, absent minded, yet intent on reaching my destination. 'Suzanne?'. I hear a voice call. I turn my head to see an old, familiar face. Startled, I search his eyes, scan his appearance, not much change, apart from longer, now braided hair. 'Hello Adrian' I reply. 'wow, what a surprise'. Mixed emotions, I am hesitant, I do not know how to respond or how to conduct myself. Should I be friendly, reserved, standoffish? He is intent on speaking to me, looking at me. Isn't it strange how two souls can be so close, so connected and then suddenly drift away from each other. I lay in bed wit this man, my ex-boyfriend, he was my lover. I attended family parties, I held babies, discussed my life plans to his family, deep down always knowing that they would not be shared with him. We laughed, we cried, we fucked, we explored, we drank, we ate, we connected. Then we disconnected. It all seems so long ago. All these thoughts flash through my mind as I look at him, feeling nothing, feeling embarrassed, feeling sorry for him. 

'You're so hard to get hold of, you didn't reply to my emails.'  He says,

'Er, yes, I didn't..didn't think it would be worth it...I have the same phone number, you could have called.' I say.

'I've lost and broken so many phones since then.' He's laughing now, trying to re-kindle some long lost flame? 'You know me, I can't look after anything, if I could then I would still have you'.