I saw her today

Lady of the House. Sounds like Florence Nightingale. She's got such a sweet happy name.

I thought I'd stopped feeling quite so much for her, but I must not. I walked into this cafe and there she was with a big group of people. She loves being with people. I saw her bending down and looking at her meal, and I thought maybe she wanted to be left alone so I stalked past. I'd been in the mood for a big meal but I was so jittery that I just had soup, which I regretted. I was so conscious of my movements, of what I was doing, of how I was. I sat fairly close to her. I wanted her to notice me, and part of me didn't. She did. I'd reached over to get a book and tried to settle to some drawing. Drawing and eating is difficult, and she really liked some of the things I'd drawn in the past- but I'd been so shaky, so feeling euphoric and high on her presence that I'd not drawn anything of any worth. She saw before I could move my book, and I thought, oh no, she'll think I'm rubbish- though I know her mind doesn't work like that. I thought, if she could see through those last two pages, she'd see her name and how much I rely on my estimation of her esteem. Two thin slices of paper, all it would have taken was a gust of wind, something to remove my hand from holding it, and a moment, and then, it would all be over.

There was no gust and my hand stayed put. Life's not a film. As soon as she came to chat, I realised that I must look like a complete loner- her with everyone, me without. I'm happy on my lunch break- I take it to escape people and to have time on my own to think, but she's a social being. What if her reaction was like my mother's reaction? That I'm sad for sitting alone and staring off into space, that it makes her sad to think of me that way, not being sparky or interesting. We talked, I like her still. She invited me to come to something tomorrow night, a charity thing. I'm still acolyte fodder, I know that but I watched her stalk off on heron legs. She's smaller than me, and we're inverse shapes; I carry weight on my hips, she does not. I watched her velvet skirt swish round skinny ankles in sensible shoes and thought, there you go, off to right the world. I'm so glad she's around. I thought how strange it was that our lives should collide. It's strange that anyone's lives collide, and lots of people must get this feeling with her because she's just so very...

But I was thinking, a baby born fifty eight years ago, a baby born twenty two years ago, and all the places we've been and gone, and all the things our parents did and told us, and grandparents, and great grandparents, and it all lead to us together, my clicking on that little link that opened up a webpage that opened up me to her, and she doesn't even know how much the collision means to me because she can't possibly feel it.

I wonder who she collides with?