I catch a glimpse of it outside the pizzeria. I’m shouting Wait! Can I finish my focaccia? but it’s in a rush and hops onto a Boris bike. I see its outline drifting off into the skyline – what is that, a woman in a crisp blue suit? I grab a bike and race with it. I’m catching up. I smell a winter fire. Is that gas, my voice is echoing along the streets. Wood, actually. We’re wheel to wheel now and I’m reaching for the handlebar. There’s a flash of sun. I’m blinded for a second, then I’m at an arts class with the lights dimmed, and John Mayer’s Battle Studies is playing on the radio, no, I’m at a Virgin Megastore with thirty dollars that I’ve saved up, no, it’s late at night and I’m cycling past a basketball court, trainers squeaking in the orange glow, no, I’m at a ballet class and it doesn’t matter I’m the worst one there, no, it’s November at the student bar and we’re singing All I Want For Christmas, no, it’s quiet in the library and we’ve found a secret room. Are you trying to kill me?

I’m trying to remember how to live.