We were in Factory, on the first floor where the hipsters and wannabes dance; I was still, and am, undecided what category I fell into. I could barely make out the line in front of my face; the smoke machine leaving everyone beautiful and ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ came on.
Either the DJ was psychic and knew I’d been waiting for it to play or in front of us appeared a happy coincidence, but my already dilated pupils seemed to stretch further, and a path cleared through the haze allowing me to see HIM. He couldn’t dance, but it all disappeared as we got the night bus to Rusholme, fellow dawn passengers regarding us with either disdain or fascination, no doubt concocting some great affair in their minds between the two of us, which led us to this time and place. But it wasn’t meant to be - he was a Law student. I never left my number.
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