She said, “I met you at Mark and Ali’s house”, and you said, “I don’t think so”. So, with very much a case of too much enthusiasm indeed, she said, “Mark. And. Alison. Taylor!” Like that cheerleading enunciation would suddenly take you right back. But you stood firm, didn’t travel anywhere in fact. And said, “nah, not me, I don’t know those people”. She looked at you with slight sadness. You had burst her bubble. But also, you were a liar. That was you there. With Mark. And with Alison. The Taylors! That night they all played a game of scrabble, and Ali knocked over the wine and Mark got a bit cross, but the woman behind the counter, whose story you are killing stone dead right now, she was so quick with the salt and the teatowel and the calm vibes that all was not only forgiven, all was gone – vanished, fixed in an instant. You had to remember all that? The delicious vegan chocolate cake? The Irish coffees, which Gary had a second one of, even after the wine, and none of you stopped him from driving home. Remember? You must remember. But you don’t. Because none of that ever happened. Well, if it did you were not there. Not that this person cared. To her, you’re just a strange liar – ruining her chance of connection. Or reconnection, as she would have it.