We sat on a bench outside of the lonely milk bar in silence taking in our wide open surroundings. We took quick, starving bites from our chips and ice cream trying to make the best of our lost situation. To fill in time we sat reading a trashy magazine in different phony accents, giggling like crazy.
We were facing an old town hall, just in front of a rather busy roundabout. The small run down hall had a banner swaying from the left wall that said "save our hall" and we both took it in with sorrow, noting the obvious fact that the hall had defiantly long since missed its chance to be 'saved'. Just below it I noticed a white car sat waiting to enter the busy roundabout. As soon as I saw the man who's arm hung loosely from the open drivers window I knew who it was. That fist has caused people to turn black and blue I thought, taking in his presence. That fist has pressed against the same skin I have.
He stared at me and I stared back, too scared to look away but too scared to let him recognise me, and so, I was frozen. I knew immediately from the handlebar moustache, dark sunglasses and protruding stomach that it was him, exactly the same look as in the photo I had where he stood in the right hand side, beside one of the nicest girls I had ever spoken to. They're such opposites I thought, shuddering. He was a man I had hated for the past 6 months, one I wished I had the courage and strength to stand up to. I hadn't even met him before.
I felt nauseous and sick. I knew exactly where he was headed, I had just been there myself. I knew so much about him, he knew things about me, we had spoken on the phone briefly. But there was a brick wall between us, we were never meant to cross paths. This is wrong I thought as I lowered my head to let his gaze fall elsewhere, if he were any closer, I'd kill him.
I watched his car speed off into the traffic heading away from us and our brief encounter disspeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
My best friend, beside me, hadn't even noticed.