Moving way to fast or much to slow (fictional prose)

I felt this was me and Joanna, as Lucinda and I sat listening to McNeal on the radio.  The presenter cuts in before she finishes and I snap out of my daydream. ‘Princess Diana is dead and her funeral is Friday, you going?’ Lucinda asks me grinning, as Elton starts crying out Goodbye Englands Rose.  This was to be my last tea-time shared with Lucinda before the big move – out of this hell hole of a squat, so fed up of the rotten smells of stale blood and stagnant pondweed; the used needles piled up outside my flats back entrance. Soon Joanna too would be a candle in my wind.  We used to spend everysummer together, every waking hour just her and me down by the riverbed, and now I was about to go forever, this damn impending speeding fine was turning out to be one big headache, I wish my life could be less like a Bon Jovi song and more like Spice Girls 2 Become 1.  Memories of a different life… run my fingers through your hair, I’ve made mistakes I’m just a man.  Tom was right, I still loved her, after all thats why I was here at this court case guilty of a crime.  Loving her and taking on her speeding fine though I was in Seatle USA at the time it was given, she behind the wheel of my red astra hatchback with its rust under the back mud gaurds, its four wheels given as a dawry from my ex’s nana.

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