Friday, May 27, 2016

I saw a Hungarian ghost.

I usually run errands on my break. Not all the time, but once or twice a week. I have an etsy shop, so I mail out items or I go to the bank.

Today, while walking along Saint-Catherine street, I saw a ghost.

Not an actual ghost, of course. It was mid-day and I was in full-sun. There were no wispy clouds, no fog. I wasn't up for a twilight pee, in a waking sleep. I wasn't in a storied place, I wasn't floating above my body. I was walking towards the MAC store, and I walked leisurely towards the Ogilvy department store doors when I saw her.

At first I wasn't sure. My eyes grazed her, as they do hundreds of people a day. Her eyes did the same to me. But there was this odd hiccup, where somewhere deep in my storied mind something clicked. I think it was her, but I can’t be positive. People change so much. She could be something else now. I am not certain, but I am pretty sure it was her. Her face had not changed. Her hair is more matronly now. She seems to be wearing the disguise of a rich housewife.

How can it be that someone I knew so well, so intimately is now an odd aberration? It’s been 12 years, maybe more. That time of my life is in the bastardized version of a memory. It’s not right, not really.

After seeing her I went into the department store and made my way to the 4th floor, where there’s a post office tucked away between 200$ haircuts and 500$ dress pants. Mail your letters like the rich do. Or would if they ran their own errands.

I looked over my shoulder once or twice. I didn't really think she’d come after me, she cut things off after-all. She was the one I couldn't reach. She's the one that cut all ties. It wasn't just me. It was everyone. All of it. Except for him.

I thought it would make me sad. It didn't. Seeing her gold jewellery confirmed to me that I don’t know her anymore.

I was sad for a very long time, but maybe not about her. Maybe it was more about the loss. I was tired of loosing. I was feeling increasingly rejected. Increasingly at a loss. Increasingly alone. Constant confirmation of what I already knew.

At one time she was my very best friend. The sister I never had. And since her, friendship has been hard. I'm more cynical than I was then. Friendships don’t forge through sleepovers and the absurd like they do when you’re a teenager. There's no crying over boys like there is when you're 16. We knew each other at our most vulnerable.

But that was a long time ago. And today, she was barely recognizable. Not physically, but as a being seeing and knowing another being. We didn't stop. We didn't say hello. Our eyes scanned through the city crowds and there was a flicker in both of us, and as soon as it was, it wasn't. We kept walking.

I walked into a luxury department store to mail a letter, and she walked somewhere that I do not know and cannot imagine.

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