Don't I Know You?

“Don’t I know You?”


“Don’t I know you?” The face sure looked familiar, the nose and eyes.

She looked at me. “I don’t think so, I never saw you before.”

“You look familiar.” I was sure I saw this woman before.

“I said I never saw you before. Leave me be.” The lady with the green eyes and long blonde hair in the red dress walked away. There was something about her walk as well. I knew that woman.

I tried to follow her through the crowd. I dodged men with hats, mothers with babies and children, teenagers laughing and shouting. Then I rushed to find her. She was lost in that mass of humanity for a time. An angry crowd surged by, shouting and shoving. Then the red dress brushed past me,

A glimpse of that blonde hair, the face turned toward me. Her eyes showed a flash of anger then that flash disappeared to be replaced by a scared rabbit glance my way. The scared rabbit ran away again, with the surging angry mob.

Then I remember how I knew this person. A memory popped up, two children playing outside. Was this my neighbor Linda? She had a red coat, we played in the backyard of her house, we were five years old. Linda’s parents yelled a lot, sometimes at me. Then one day she left. I always wondered where she went.

My need to finish this memory led me to follow this person I believed was Linda. I hung back, watched the mob. It worked its way up the boulevard, then stopped at the fountain facing Hotel d’Richlieu.

There she was. “Linda!” The woman in the red dress stopped. Looked my way. I waved at her. “It’s George!”

Suddenly the scared rabbit eyes were gone. “George!”

W/C 295