Déjà vu - prologue

I let you in.

You are tall, good looking. Had I seen you at school, I would have instantly crushed on you.

I'm crushing on you now.

"Do you smoke pot?", you ask.

I tell you, I've never tried, but I could...

- - -

We are sitting on my small two-seater sofa, with a pyramid of grass on the coffee table.

You have also introduced me to Club Lemon. We are mixing it with Jack Daniels.

The air is light smoke. Maybe not light. Heavy, even.

My neighbours drop in. We don't hide the pyramid of grass, but they turn a blind eye to it.

They go.

- - -

We are in bed, having sex. A lot.

We fall off bed, laugh a little, have more sex on the floor.

Later, more sex on that small sofa. Awkward shoelaces, corset hooks...

- - - 

Have we even eaten anything?

After a while - has it been a couple days? - you need to travel on.

You ask me to go with you, and I want to, but I can't afford to.

You decide to come back, before going home.

- - - 

We take the bus to town, my first time. I usually walk.

There's still some time. We have pints at Fibber Magee's.

We don't talk much, we just flirt with sideways glances.

- - -

You go.

Over the next few days, everything goes wrong.

We never see each other again.

For the next 22 years, you remember to tell me you really love me.

Then you go.

I love you, too. Did I ever tell you?


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