Loud notifications, constant beeps; morning charade of scanning through,

her name blinks, on my Facebook page, a message request,

a formal two liner- “Visiting my aunt. Do you want to catch up?”.

Homeward bound; My childhood friend, an inconsequential sister by fate.

To the same school we went- parks, dance classes and salons too. Lockdown

medalled; pre-quarantine heart had craved for the big city rumble.

Twins, they said. Pink dresses, boy shorts, the outfits we exchanged.

None lingered or strayed. Off on the train, no heartfelt goodbye;

I loitered around on the platform. I had a long journey to the south.

A dilapidated milk farm to a London cafe- we meet, the curls sit on her face,

unsaid fierce monologues, bottled up, squeamish black squid ink.

Reminiscence; Of home, family, small town gossip and everything between.

Upright lid, half- open; yet an evergreen mirror of what is within. The waitress resolves,

anything for the two sisters? Coffee, we say, humming a tune.

Leaning on the edge of the table, we smile. “Black”, I say; “Chicory for me”.

I have fled thousand miles away from home, guarding rivers within,

severe look in her eyes, both waiting for our order, she speaks, echo of her old cry;

have you found a sister in the busiest of London streets?

***