Global village idiot

Their eyes met across a crowded street in London, SW1.

She still wore her dark hair very long; her slightly rounded, cherubic face framed by almost black tresses that tumbled down past her shoulders.

Her smile was exactly as he remembered it, cheeky – almost impertinent – topped off with a pair of the brightest, shiniest eyes.

Their gazes met at the same time.

‘Brennig!’, she exclaimed, while he laughed and almost shouted her name ‘Sam!’

The years parted between them, as if a magic spell had instantly disolved 20 years of history and, once again, they found themselves to be a pair of slightly bewildered, almost confused students.

[pause while much pasta in a muy deliciosa homemade sauce is hastily consumed]

But of course… that isn’t how it happened.

The reality is somewhat different…

He stumbled down the steps from his office building, dazzled by the unexpectedly, painfully bright London sunlight.

He almost fell over the young woman in the pink top and severe black two-piece.

They apologised to each other, smiling as they did so.

Three paces later a thought struck him.

‘I know her!’

He looked back and saw her glance over her shoulder at him as she turned the corner.

He tried and tried but his brain refused to serve up either her name or the place from where he knew her.

Two hours later, in the middle of a project meeting, the penny dropped: Sam! From college! In Bath!

He wondered if the penny had also dropped for her.

Or if she was walking – hastily – around the corner because she had recognised him!

B.

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