It was gone midnight when I threw on a crumpled hoodie from under my bed and a pair of faded tracksuit bottoms. I don’t know how I knew I’d find her that night, but I was certain I would.

As I emerged from the blackness of the alley into the emptiness of the park, I knew I was close. Something was different in the atmosphere, like the feeling of walking through a graveyard – that sense that there’s more going on than we understand. Like a static charge in the air, pricking at the molecules, I’d feel it every time, right before I saw her.

With a sliver of moonlight making it through the high cloud, I scanned the open space. At the far corner, in the children’s play area, I was sure I could see a speck of glowing orange in the dark, as tiny as a distant firefly or ember from a bonfire.

As I walked the 200 metres across the park, the fury fell away from me. By the time I could smell the smoke, and recognize her form, crouched in the centre of the little roundabout, there was no anger left in me. Just relief. There was nothing I couldn’t forgive in exchange for five minutes alone with her.

‘Not a good time, Ollie,’ Sophia said, only briefly looking up at me.

I reached in my pocket for my dog-eared pack of ciggies. Lowering my backside on to the edge of the roundabout, I sparked one up and fought to keep the smoke in against the baulking of my lungs.

‘What you been up to?’ I asked. The tone of the question came out wrong, like a demand.

‘You look like a knob when you smoke,’ she said.

I considered stubbing my cigarette out, but opted to hold my ground. Each drag made me more self-conscious. ‘You’ve not been around.’

She withdrew further into her baggy jumper. ‘I’ve not been feeling very fun. Sorry if that comes as a disappointment.’

‘Have I done something to annoy you?’

‘Jesus, Ollie. It’s not all about you.’

‘Who is it about then? Who’s the lucky guy?’

‘Fuck you.’ She shoved her hair away from her face and looked at me properly for the first time. ‘I expected better than that from you.’

‘Sorry,’ I whispered. And I was. I gazed at my own feet on the tarmac. My socks were soaked through and grey with filth from the walk.

‘Where the hell are your shoes?’ she asked.

‘Think I might have forgotten them.’

‘You forgot your shoes?’ She looked incensed. ‘You forgot your fucking shoes?’ A snort of air escaped from her nose. ‘How do you forget shoes?’ The life came back into her eyes. Her mouth turned up at the corners. A wheeze of a laugh escaped from her. ‘Who doesn’t remember to put their shoes on?’

‘It’s a fair point.’