Several years ago know, a friend named Rebecca passed away. We’d been close in high school and kept in touch sporadically over the years. The last time we met up, she was hopeful about her treatment and planning to fight off the illness that had invaded her body. We sat in a busy cafe in the middle of Newtown, drinking coffee and giggling over what idiots we’d been in high school. She told me about her more recent travels, I probably bored the pants off her with stories of my kids. A few months later, she was gone.
A few weeks later, bustling through the city, I saw her. Wearing a black checkered shirt over a singlet, she dipped her face down behind her hand, lighting a cigarette. She looked up and met my eye as I stepped towards her, my mouth already forming her name. When I blinked, Bec’s face was gone. It wasn’t her, just someone with only a passing resemblance.