A figure walked towards me. A mysterious figure striding through the coldness of a swirling mist. You were upright, tall and lithe, with a confidence that might have made someone wary. I didn’t recognise you because of the glasses and the fact you had bleached your hair. And I never realised how tall you were, Alfie.

You smiled and said ‘Hi,’ like you always did. You said the same when I last saw you outside a coffee shop in that sweltering heat of summer. Then, you wore a tee shirt and shorts and wore no glasses. But it was the legs I remembered most. Those fucking legs!

Tonight, you made excuses for wearing glasses because it seemed to bother you. I would like to have told you that they made you look handsome but was afraid it might seem like I was flirting.

My nose started running and I thought ‘shit,’ that looked bad. But you didn’t seem to notice. You told me about your new job as a waiter and that you wore a smart waistcoat.

I think you wanted to talk longer, but tonight my conversation seemed awkward. My words were too big to come out of my mouth. As such, I made excuses to leave, and I detected that look of disappointment. But you perhaps weren’t as disappointed as I was with myself. I looked back. You were walking away, going somewhere secret, and I was jealous