Dear Brian,

I saw you yesterday, as I was sitting on the bus. You were sitting at a table outside Café Laurent, on Dame St. It was definitely you, I could tell from the Fight Club t-shirt I bought you last summer.
I got off at the next stop, but when I ran back you weren't there. But Brian, just seeing you made me realise I still love you. Brian I'm still crazy about you. Please call me Brian, I need you, and don't tell me it's the end.

Love Louise

Louise Smith. She's standing outside her ex-boyfriend, Brian's flat in south London with the above letter.
                  It's been six months since they broke up, and Louise is still in love with Brian, and they only lasted three fucking months till he ran off with another girl. She's known me for fifteen months...and she doesn't love me.
           Louise is a sweet, beautiful twenty one year old woman studying Business at the University of East London. She's bright, intelligent...and did I mention beautiful?  
                       Well maybe not beautiful to you. She's short, a little bit chubby, but I think that's cute. She has beautiful dark brown eyes, dark brown hair and a smile that would melt ice.
                       It's just a shame she's not intelligent enough to see Brian for who he really is - a complete and total wanker. Brian never loved her; I don't think Brian even liked her that much. If Louise only knew that he has forgotten her second name already, and that he brings a different girl home to his posh flat every Saturday night.
                    Brian is a rich boy, where Mammy and Daddy have bought him everything he ever needed. He's twenty four, drives a BMW and wears designer clothes....he has everything I don't have.
                       I'm seventeen, I'm doing my A levels in St. Paul's Community school. I live in a council flat in Walthamstoe, East London with my Mum and sister. My fucking Dad walked out when I was three, and I haven't seen his ass since.
                   Apparently I look like my dad, or so my aunt Katie tells me. I'm tall, blue eyes, brown hair.
                 Louise is standing outside Brian's flat with the letter and writes her number on it neatly. She's reading the letter and thinking how stupid it is, and how it can't possibly describe how she feels about him. But there's no way words can describe how she feels.
                 Words diminish the things that seem to overwhelm you inside, and when you say them, they sound so small, so meaningless that it's like you have said something else. Words don't work.
                Louise is holding back the tears as she slips the letter under the door, and turns around.  She's sniffing as her nose gets runny. People don't cry like they do in the movies, nobody's skin stays the same colour as a single tear runs down a cheek. Real people look like Louise, their eyes get puffy and their faces go red, it looks silly, and it's pathetic. That's what Louise looks like now.
                  She's running down the three flights of stairs of the building....second floor...first floor....ground floor and out the exit door.
         It's sunny, but there's a cold breeze, and all Louise is wearing is a t-shirt and jeans. She folds her arms, and walks into the breeze towards the nearest Underground station. She's cold, she's lonely and she's unloved....except I love her.
                   Louise doesn't live in a nice place, in fact she lives opposite me, or her block of flats is opposite my block anyway. Pretty shit place, all I want to do is get out of here, get somewhere else. I guess it's why I stayed in school.
                 I work in a Pizza Express restaurant with Louise. We're both waiters, well, she's a waitress. I see her most days. If I don't see her at work I might see her when I get back from school, she might be sitting at a graffitied bench or the trashed bus shelter smoking. I want to tell her to quit smoking.
                 I doubt she'd listen to me anyway. To her I'm probably just a spotty little virgin teenager without a clue of what life's like. I mean there's a fucking four year age gap for God's sake. I'm only seventeen.
                 If I see Louise I'll sit down and talk to her about stuff. Louise and I can talk about everything and nothing. If I have a shit day at school, all I have to do is think about Louise and that I'll get a chance to talk to her after school. I don't tell her I had a shit day, just talking to her makes everything easier to deal with. I'd like to think it's the same with her.
                  She's not having a happy time living here, but then she chose to move here for college. Me? I got landed in this shit hole whether I liked it or not.
               Everybody has a secret, everybody is hiding something. I'm hiding my love for Louise, and if she even thought about it for a second she'd probably realise. But I can't tell her. I mean she's twenty one, and I'm only seventeen....four years, four god damn years.

                                                           ***

'Hey man...we oughta get some fags', by we he means himself, himself being my best friend TJ, a seventeen year old black youth. TJ has been my best friend since I started school. He lives in a council house a few streets away from me with his mother, father and three sisters. He's the youngest.
             It's Friday and I'm tired, I don't say anything to him, and the bell tings as I enter the corner shop. There's an Indian woman at the counter, instantly watching me less I steal something.
              'Can I have a twenty pack of Benson & Hedges, please?'
I wait for her to ask me for ID, but she doesn't, and I give her the ten pounds and she hands me the cigarettes and change.
                   We walk a little further home, and I hand TJ his cigarettes, he opens the pack and takes one out, he offers me one:
                'I don't smoke.' He knows I don't smoke, but never ceases to offer.
We walk on in silence. The sun is setting in the winter sky, and one can already see the three blocks of flats rising into that same sky; mine, Louise's opposite it, and a third one beside mine. They are all grey cold concrete, stained yellow in places where the rain has run down them for the last forty or so years since they were built. They've been graffitied at the foot with various names and slogans; I can't say I'm not responsible for some of that.
                I live on the fourth floor, number 156. Louise lives on the fifth floor of her block, number 207.
               In front of the flats TJ and I separate, saying goodbye in the gruffness that seems to be part of the male psyche. I pat him on his arm and walk towards my block of flats, and I look round and see Louise sitting on a bench.
                She's smoking and looks upset. I walk over to her, hands in my pockets, and cough. She sees me, smiles weakly and waves.
               'Hey', I say.
                'Hey' she replies and takes a drag from her cigarette.
I sit down beside her, close enough so that our arms are touching. Its cold and I can see goose pimples in her arms, she's cold and she's only wearing a t-shirt.
               'You really should give up smoking' I tell her.
                  'Yeah' she says absently, and takes another drag from her cigarette. She seems a little sad.
                    What you been up to today?' she asks, shivering.
               'School - you cold?'
                'No - well a little...' she replies.
I put my arm around her and pull her closer to me, and she rests her head on my shoulder. My hand is resting on her arm and I can feel how cold it is. Well this isn't like her, there must be something wrong.
              We're silent together for a little while, and I'm looking at the curves of her legs, and how they're a woman's legs, they're older, more mature, more shaped than any girl's my age.
               'What's the matter?' I ask her.
              'Nothing. I'm just a little tired. Why?'
               'No reason... you going out tonight?'
                'Yeah Frankie and Marie have planned a night out. I suppose I'd better go....You going anywhere?'
               'No. I'm staying in; I might go round to TJ's and open a couple of beers.'
               'But you're not eighteen!' she teases me.
                'Ah but I look twenty one.'
She laughs, gets up and stands in front of me.
                'Hey, I'll see you at work tomorrow, ok?' She says.
                  'It's a date.' I smile smugly back at her, and she smiles back, before turning, putting her fag butt in the bin. I watch her walk up the steps to her block and disappearing inside, before I get up and walk in to my identical block.