I didn't know who she was at first. Her face looked familiar, but I couldn't quite remember where I knew her from. I thought she was stalking me. Well, she is stalking me. I come into the cafe at the same time every week, and she's sat there in the same seat, typing away at her laptop. I don't think she knows that I can see the reflection of her desktop in the window behind her; typing away at a blank screen.
I spent the whole day yesterday flicking through pictures of her as a kid. She's still got the same wild, curly red hair and the same little button nose. I'm going to speak to her today. I've got to. We can't go on like this forever, she family. She's my sister.
'Hey,' he said, slipping into the seat opposite her.
She blushed a deep red.
'Hi.'
'Listen,' he said, pushing his hand across the table. Wow, he thought. She looks like our dad.
'I know who you are.'
She didn't know what to say. She stared at the laptop screen, praying for the right words.
'I know who you are,' she said.
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