(And she had dyed red hair and beaded moccasins after all.)
I distracted myself from the sudden panicked feeling of alienation,
I tried not to allow my thoughts to leave the tangible physical world of the book I was clutching in front of me,
in my very-much-real little hands,
just in case it disappeared completely.
But then it was all ok, I was back in it all, the smell of cheap coffee and the industrial sounds of hairdressers and someone trying to control their wayward children.
The girl with the dyed-red hair took a sandwich out of her embroidered bag and unwrapped it. I recognised the red-on-white printed logo immediately, she had bought it from the same café that I always go to.
(We had something in common after all.)