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I don’t really mean that

I don’t want him to see me like this

I shouldn’t want him to see me at all

“Where are you running off to?” This tie hand that curls around my shoulder because thatme

My heart is beating out of ht and ht; to buular ar is that for twomyself that he wasn’t as special as ined his brilliance, gilded the experience, as h couple of ht of his to happen to un to persuade myself that the memories weren’t true That as litter andit is to find that’s not true

So, I do the only thing I can do I turn, and I fix on a polite smile as my mind scans for reasons to explain my presence here

I had such an awesome time in London, I decided to move here

Too random

The unifor a friend

Ack! What if he asks which friend?

Ich bin nicht Holly Ich bin Helga?

What if he knows more than the half dozen words of German I know?

“Hell—Oh” My fixed-on smile slips

“I can’t reoes from playful to silky smooth but that’s not what’s important because, as I look up, I realise that sly snation to disappointa And my words, when I find them, are borderline rude

“Hey, how are you?” Who are you, again?