James’ existential journey to find himself and Susie
Print Edition
James didn’t want people to think it would be funny if they ended up marrying and doing up a bungalow in Devon, or to own ducks and bake scones in during old age.
He wanted people to think it was a rather desirable thought.
James didn’t want people to think it would be funny for people to bump into him in 15 years’ time and have no clue who he was.
He didn’t want to sit in some New Addington Costa and have Susie, from psychology, look at him from behind the cake counter and wonder why he looked so familiar. He knew she’d only forget about it and go back to making a sloppy cappuccino with the wrong sort of milk, sugar and foam in it.
James didn’t really know why he thought people would refer to encountering him as “funny.” Maybe it was his French teacher from years ago who didn’t remember him but told him in impeccable French that it was funny, he looked just like a student she used to teach.
She clearly didn’t remember his straight Es in A-level French.
Maybe it wasn’t her that made him think this was how people saw him. Maybe it was Susie. It was probably Susie.
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