Not Our Type

Surely you remember her? Skinny, feisty kid, few years younger than you. Her family were not our sort. Non aspirational. Still live in that miserable neighbourhood we left years ago.  Trouble from the start. Running wild. Had a child in her teens. Stillborn thankfully, imagine her as a mother! Any normal person would welcome a fresh start. Not Missy. Crazier than ever. Rumours of drugs, encounters with the police. Then, she disappeared, left Town. Have not heard her name mentioned in years. What is she called.....oh that's right, Fleur. Whatever possessed her parents. Anyway, Fleur is back now. Did not recognise her at first. All politeness, glitz, gloss. Delusions above her station. Forgotten the past. I have not. People do not change. She does not fool me. Wonder why she has returned. Why are you rolling your eyes at me David? You should have outgrown that childish habit. What did you say?  Her mother is French, her family are loving. Fleur has been living in France with an Aunt, far from judgemental, small town mentalities. How do you know?  Judgemental mentalities? What are you insinuating? You, Fleur.....together. But, I don't understand. She is not our type.

By Margaret Karim

United Kingdom