This Isn't Me.

Okay Then.

"So, why are you here?" He asked, a kind expression forced onto his face.

"I honestly do not know." I replied flatly.

"Well, what brought you here today?"

"A bus. It's got four wheels and a lot of seats, although only two or three of them were occupied." He asked for that.

Then he made his first mistake. "Um," The middle aged man faltered, telling me he was already struggling, weakening, he obviously wasn't very good at his job. "Well, start form the beginning, tell me what your life used to be like." A fake smile appeared on his lips, inviting me to trust him, I declined with a slight scowl.

"What do you want to know?" I kept it simple, following my rules:

1. Don't say too much - neither of you want to be friends.

2. Don't be too blunt - he's got his games you've got yours. Let the man think he's getting somewhere then bam and the walls come down again.

"Anything you feel is important. Remember, this is all about you."

"Okay then." You are going to wish you'd never had to call the name Miss Brass.

"I was popular, very popular, everyone envied us. They were out in the cold while we were under the stairs in K block warming ourselves by the heater. We just sat there every lunchtime and talked. Jake would sometimes get out his tiny Swiss army knife and carve words or pictures into the whitewashed walls." A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, the deranged man clearly believed this to be personal information I was giving him, but no. This little tale may be capable of getting my good old friend Jake suspended, the cartoons of Mrs Lake he carved one day were not exactly kind, but does that bother me? Would he think for one second before completely forgetting what I meant to him? No. So why shouldn't I give this idiot something on him? I hope it gets back to the school, no, to Miss Lake! I'd love to see her face if she found out it was him. So this is nothing to me. Because I am not going to tell him what happened when I stared at Jakes carvings one day, laughing at the plump Miss Lake shown in one of his cartoons. He asked me I'm his deep captivating voice "Do you like them?"

"Do I!? I love them!" We laughed together at his sketches until he smiled down at me and asked another question.

"Want me to teach you?"

"Teach me what?" I was confused, but not for long.

"Here, let me show you!" He took my hand in his and passed the knife over. I can still remember the way his warm hand guided mine. The result was simple but beautiful to me. A small heart had been scratched into the wall above the heater. "I'm just going to add a little extra something..." Jake smiled. "Close your eyes." He said, so I did.

"Oh! Oh, yes!" I answered his written question. Jake's face lit up, mirroring my expression of pure joy.

I reread the carved words Coffee on Saturday?.

"Layla?"

"I prefer Miss Brass, thanks."

"Oh, okay, well then could you not hear me?"

"I was just thinking." I said truthfully.

"What about?" The trust-requesting smile was back, but was I falling for it?

"My mates, you know, the under the stairs," Another truth "And Allie, she was, well I guess you'd say she was my best friend. We'd spend all our time together, I envied her long blonde hair, when we were little she looked like a princess and by the time she was 13 she looked like a supermodel..."