I was in a seaside town carrying a heavy satchel on a bright, breezy day. It was the scene of gentle decline- the pavement was of that wide pebbly variety you only seem to get in seaside towns, and everything had an open and empty quality to it.
I heard laughter and saw a bar which opened out onto the sea- it seemed to be empty except for a guy and a girl. They were both tall, rangey and sunburnt. The guy wore a wifebeater and shorts, and had laughing eyes and sun damaged ginger hair. They sat me down and we engaged in some bants, mostly at my expense. Although they laughed there was a sad quality about the man- he seemed to me to be to be the wrong man in the wrong place. It was frustrating for me because I had an offer he could not refuse in my satchel, one that would put him where he belonged, but I could not turn the conversation around to it, and felt uncomfortable discussing it with him with the girl there.
Eventually I got him to walk down the shingle beach with me. We sat down and looked at the ocean with the wind whipping around us and I finally felt I could tell him what I had come to offer him. It was then I realised I'd left my satchel behind in the bar. And, suddenly, I couldn't even remember what it was I had brought. Was it an offer to review tiny indie bands for a prestigious online music magazine? I am sure that was it, but I was struck with uncertainty.
The man looked at me sadly as I dithered, leaned over and said "Sorry pal, don't know who you are", then got up and left me there, sat in the pale blue haze of sea and sky.