"Pete! What are the odds?"
It did seem like a long shot that we should meet right here, after all this time.
A summer's day, long ago - laughter and booze and ridiculous bets. The stable blocks were away from the course but smelled of horse piss so we found a barn. Piles of hay and items made of leather that I could only guess the use of. We found a use though..... yes, well.
I never saw her again, until now. A woman standing where once there was a girl.
She leaned in, a little too close, holding my arm. The smell of cheap bubbly and fags on her breath. Too much make-up, but I could see the flaws she was trying to hide. She hiccupped, belched a little, and giggled.
"Sorry. It's hardly Ascot, is it? Really though Pete - what are the chances?"
"Pretty slim, I'd say."