If she were with me now, she’d be chatting to the girl that served me, to all the passersby, squinting those warm, smiling eyes, radiating her love to anyone she encountered, annoying those not open to her charms.
If she were with me now, she’d talk of this and that, of who was in favour and who was out, of her frustrations and joys with family, friends and colleagues, of an impossible dream that filled her heart with hope.
If she were with me now, swirls of thick, grey smoke would fill the air ripe with profanities in an endless chain of pent up feelings given vent to by tobacco and companionship and the freedom to be herself.
If she were with me now, laughter, hope and love would fill my heart, if only….
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