"Here you go, darling."
And with those words he fades away. I still see him, but I am no longer there. I look into his eyes, but they are slanting and green now and his eyebrows are darker, thicker, fuller. He reaches for me - broken knuckles touches porcelain as I feel you through him. I move swiftly through the thick film of memories from another time - disconnected, lost to him (because I want to be) and I know you are here because he is wrong. My gaze takes in the faces around me - working men from another time, another space, the band playing the banjo on stage.
"You like the banjo, don't you?" you say as you lean back with a wolfish smile (typical, so typical). And we are in Westport, very far away from London. And it's another year, another month and I can't breathe because I feel so much and I fear if I blink you will disappear. You taught me to chase rainbows. You taught me to endeavour to achieve the unachievable and this bar in London is not it, this man by my side is not it.
As I step out into the night - your steps echo next to mine on the way to the metro.
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