I remember the first time. On the bus to Nans. He got on and walked slowly down the aisle. It were always crowded. And he stood next to me. He muttered when he spoke. So you had to move closer to hear him. I didn't though. I moved further away. He could still reach my hair.
He stroked it. Saying he loved ginger, was I... he'd tailed off chuckling and closed his eyes. Like he was thinking of me. Of my hair.
I hated him from that moment. And deep down I knew that was the end. And the start.