The Lost Boy

After writing my last little bloggy-woggy post, I went into the lounge to find HarryPotter, Intern2 and Roger flopped about the lounge playing video games like a bunch of kids. The room reeked of skunk, and no one thought to open a window. There were beer bottles and ashes everywhere, so I started tiding up as they played their game.

As I was clearing away the rubbish, I asked if anyone’s had breakfast. Someone mumbled, ‘Ate cereal last night. No milk.’ Looking back at them, I felt a bit like Wendy taking care of the lost boys. HarryPotter would be Peter Pan. Intern2 and Roger are Michael and John.

But there was someone missing, where was Vic? Was he actually just a figment of my imagination? Turns out not. He’d simply got up early and left to catch a train back to Dundee.

So, I popped on my jeans and jacket, and headed out to the shops to get some breakie for myself and the boys. I figured a bacon roll would do my own fuzzy head a world of good. As I walked to the shop, I thought about Vic, and how it’s likely I’ll never see him again. It’s like he had a walk on roll in my life.

Which got me thinking about all those people I’ve met only once. I’m not talking about the random person next to you on the tube, but all those people you share an evening or a day with, but never see again. Those people who have a small and fleeting part of your life, but without those people how terribly boring life would be.

From the kids I played with at birthday parties when I was young, to the randoms at school and Uni parties. All these transient faces. What happened to them? Would they remember me? 

I got back to the flat, put the bacon in the grill, set the milk in the fridge and put the kettle on. The boys were playing a zombie killing game, and I wondered what Vic was up to. Would I ever see him again, and if I did would we recognise each other, or would he be just another Lost Boy?

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