Is it really twenty six years; we both say “You look just the same”. What is it we recognise in each other, for we both wear time’s signs of age. The connection is there, our conversation intense. So much to say yet you tell me you never normally talk like this. Of late nor do I; I find it hard to recall when words meant so much. Your eyes smile at me, bluer than I remember, with a yearning signal I recognise.
At Paddington station we delay my departure; another coffee; a later train will do. There is not enough time amongst the departures and arrivals, the rush of people, the station announcer’s constant messages, for us two, you and I, to say all we want to.
With reluctance, after three missed trains I have to go. The walk along the platform hurts; I don’t want to get on the train and you tell me you don’t want me to go. Our hands held, they fit just as well as they always did; our parting embrace stunned us both; without words you opened the train door and we could only look at each other, confused, amazed; perhaps hopeful.
Lesley Lees from Plymouth, Devon has just started to write flash fiction but has been writing poetry for the last few years