Your Little Sister's Best Friend

#4 Millennial Menoirs

You know what it’s like when you visit old haunts. Things that have been tucked deep down well up and spill over. Memories of sunsets in Clissold Park, playing frisbee under a full moon, restaurants dated and dined in, the pub full of friends on birthdays gone by. And I can never walk past that bookshop without remembering this. I typed these words into the notes on my phone as I boarded the 106 from Stoke Newington to Seven Sisters this morning. It’s not my finest work, but maybe some of my fastest. Must have been ready to come out.

I knew I might see you that day
I felt you before you emerged
From our favourite bookshop 
The door swinging open
First, your umbrella
Next, a long leg
Then, an arm extended
To a pretty young thing
A red beret on her head
And a glow around the two of you 
That announced about your persons
For the world to see in plain
Arrows of outrageous fortune
Gleaming in your eyes
The first throws of love
Oblivious, almost
To the woman glowering at you
From behind her scarf
You caught my gaze
A smile in instant reflex
Fast falling from your lips
Before it reached the corners
‘Hey’ you mouthed painfully, silently
Staring sourly into your eyes 
I willed you read my thoughts
‘Your little sister’s best friend?’
I knew I might see you that day
Some day with someone else
But that I should have seen coming
That I should have fucking known