The Angel In The North

"You look unhappy," she said to me, sitting down.
I pushed up the corners of my mouth with my hands. "Is this better?"
She was young and blond and pretty.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Ruth," she said. She laughed at this. She was drunk.
I was in a bar in Newcastle. It was carnage. It was like an army of stags meeting an army of hens. It was like Lord of the Rings dressed in Top Shop.
"Hello Ruth, I'm Se..." I let it float in the air as she stood up and walked off. She found a friend and started dancing.
I watched the carnage. I felt old and removed. She was young and blond and pretty.
Her loss.