When I look up long enough to see a shooting star, I think of you

Of course I do. We lay on our backs on a Cornish beach that August night, staring into the sky, you and I, each newly single, or soon to become so; and because the Perseids performed for us we assumed, quite naturally, that we would fall in love.

But we did not.

The truth is we were worlds apart. I hardly saw you at all after that night; and never again the two of us alone.

But yes, in one of the luminous fragments in the sentimental novella of my life in a parallel universe, it all played out rather differently: though to what end, I’m still not entirely sure.

Even so, in August, when I look up long enough to catch a falling star, I think of you. Of course I do.

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