The rythm of yesterday catches me off guard. The same songs playing from the sound system, distracting me from conversation. Lost images glint at the peripheries of my vision, like fairies.
Bewitched are my feet, retracing their moves down memory's pain. My teenage self, flickering like a still burning flame, reflecting in broken hearted songs - not understanding the game.
"If only I knew then what I know now..." Brings me back to the present.
Rachel smells of Tommy Girl, it makes me think of my dad.
"...how different things might have been."
Decisions falter with the glass breaking sound of immature wisdom. Retrospect means the scars still show.
I feel my eyelid self-consciously twitch, smiling at my facade of adult-ness.
Richard Bach. Can you really meet your older self crossing the bending bridge of time? Visit and advice your younger self ?
I had imagined that. The me of now, looking back and reassuring the mixed up mess of yesterday. The drunken frolics, misguided moments, lonely heart craving for its soulmate. I used to imagine seeing myself, older, all accepting, all embracing, reaching out to the poetry writing school girl, staring out of the window, down at the older me in the schoolyard.

We move from the table we have been occupying, smiling at recognisable faces, stopping now and then as we reach the school yard...
I swear I see the ghost of a familiar face looking wide-eyed from a top window, overlooking the courtyard, just for a moment.
"Becky?" Rachel whispers, "Where've you gone?"
I smile, feeling the pulse of tomorrow thumping in my feet.