Tracey

13/2/14

I was typing at my laptop as my sister walked into my room and told me she met a girl at work.  My sister also works in a retail store, like I do.  My sister works on the checkouts in the morning in a convenience store, while I work in the superstore.  Same company, different branches.  My sister said to me, the girl, obviously not a girl no more, a grown women like myself, asked her if My sister was my sister.  So it was ” Are you XXX sister?”  XXX means my name.  My sister looked up at the woman she was serving, my sister told me she looked really familiar, like as if she has seen her somewhere.  The answer, my sister gave her was ‘Yes, she works at the big store.’  The girl, my sister was serving told my sister, “I’m Tracey, I went to school with your sister.”

When my sister told me her name.  I was so excited.  Tracey is a friend who I have lost contact with, and I have been trying to find her.  What is she doing in my home town?  I wondered.  I asked my sister, what was she wearing?  Did she have a wedding ring on her finger?  How does she look like now?  Blonde?  red haired?  brunette?  What name was on her debit or credit card when she paid?  What did she buy?  My sister’s reply was she couldn’t ask her any questions as she was busy and couldn’t remember.  The last thing Tracey said to my sister was “What a small world.”  

I guess I just got very excited when my sister told me.  I began searching old school photographs on facebook, which I found and showed to my sister and she said she looks the same.  Similar body built like myself.  Not as tall as me.  Shocking, when we were at school she was always taller than me.  Tracey was the ‘A star’ student, very competitive if I got a better grade than her on a psychology essay or exam result.  She was very intelligent.  She loved horses and played a violin.  Artistic like myself.  She went to university in London to become a vet or a brain surgeon.  We kept in contact when we both finished our ‘a levels.’  We lost contact when she was in first year at Uni, and after I had resigned my job in the bank industry.  That was pretty much the last I saw of her.  I did write, but she stopped responding.  A year ago, I wrote a letter to the house which her parents owned in Stanwick.  I wrote in it, if she still lived there to contact me and get in touch.  There was no reply.      

 

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