I walk the highstreet of life looking in shop windows at things I cannot ever hope to have. In rows, there are neatly packaged lives on display. Peaking through the glass I have a glimpse into so many unlived lives.
I wonder what it would be like to take one home with me, carried carefully under my wing. The moment of excitement when opening the parcel, peeling back the nondescript brown wrapping paper and then each of the pieces gleaming under the warm light of my living room. A wedding dress, a schoolroom desk, two cats and a home to call my own.
I turn away instead, feeling the cold more than ever. I was destined to walk the highstreet alone just as the streetlights come on, peering in shop windows and gazing at myself in the reflection of the darkened store.
