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You swear you've met me before. On a bus, maybe, last year - when it was raining. You think you've seen me around the coffeeshop at dusk, you weren't sure - the sun was in your eyes. You'd describe me as average looking, maybe you'd sneer at my rumpled clothes or at the cigarette dangling from my stained fingers. You wouldn't look twice at my languid expression. Definitely a one-glance-and-move-on kind of face.

You swear you've seen me before. You edged past me in the darkened theatre, you were focused your popcorn. Its the face that catches you out of the corner of your eye, pulls you into a memory.

My face is one that you can assign to the past - one whose faintly smudged characteristics match the blur etched by the march of time. Easy to remember.

Easy to forget.