“You, redhaired in a cropped red jacket; me, despite the heat on the packed carriage, hooded khaki parka and stained loose-fitting grey trousers. You brushed my hand as the crowd forced itself on the train at Liverpool street, and I responded in kind by staring blankly at you with my mouth held slack and attempting to back you into a corner until you abruptly and tearfully left the train at Woodford. Cursing myself for not getting your number; can’t stop thinking that you already have my sweat about you, so why not go the next step.”

“Love at a depth of 5 metres: our eyes met as I drifted face-up along the bottom of the swimming pool; your bathing suit a delicate shade of lavender. I cried out for you in a series of guttural honks as I was forcibly ejected from the facility, but I guess you didn’t hear. Have you shaved your legs yet? Please do not.”