I meet him for the first time in years. I am nervous. We are in a bar I’ve never been to before. In a place unfamiliar to me. We hug. We kiss. I wonder if it means as much to him as it does to me. I thank him for agreeing to see me after so long. We talk. I tell him of the new flat, he tells me of his new place. I tell him the old flat just didn’t seem the same without him. We hug more. I tell him I miss him so much. I miss him every day. Some people arrive. Somehow familiar but not. I have to go. I have things to do. I wade through people to the outside. I cycle. I come back. The bar is full. I am roaming around, trying to find him. Somehow the bar is now someone’s house, I am in a party. No-one has seen him. I get anxious. I am outside, it is daylight. I don’t know how I got there, but I know I have to get back. I see the bar, on the river. I cycle up the hill to it. I lock my bike. I am puzzled by my blackout. I don’t know how much time has passed. I enter the bar, walking around, every corner I turn looks familiar, the familiar leather sofas, the familiar layout, but not quite right. Until eventually I arrive at the right one. He is still there. He has a blackberry now. He is swapping numbers with someone else. I urgently need to talk to him, but I can’t find the words. Inside I am screaming “no”. Outside I am all smiles. I take his arm and we leave. My family are there, we are all trying to get into the big car. He is in, I cannot talk to him because I do not fit in the car. I tell them it’s ok, I can cycle. I don’t see him again. I wake up. It was Phantom of the Opera’s 20th anniversary at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Haymarket, yesterday. I’ve always wanted to go, but always held off. He went to see it once and said it was wonderful, I’d always hoped to take us both. Maybe I’ll go on my own.