Ruth

I stood at that bus stop in a thin kameez and new trainers, nineteen and pretending to be fine, and you looked at me for a whole minute before you unwound the brown scarf from your own neck and put it round mine. When I tried to give it back you said, you'll need it more than me, love, and got on your bus. I still have it. I have lived here eleven years now, and every new student I meet shivering at the station in October gets a warm word and a coat recommendation from me. It's your scarf, really. I'm only passing it on.