It doesn't trouble me...

You know, it's not that I'm worried about them - about their stolen glances and little whispered asides - I don't worry.

I know they're old old mates - like a brother and sister.

I know that.

Its just I wish I didn't feel so excluded - like there's some little in joke or story that I'm not part of.

They're keeping me on the outside.

We walked through town on Saturday. The three of us.

We walked past Churchill Square, an identikit any'town shiopping centre - mostly filled with language students, emo-kids and porker mums with their fat kids. You know the kind of place.

Other than this is Brighton and there people in black sat at a table in V for Vendatta style masks - handing out some kind of literature a cult - and geting hardly any response from the 'freak-hardended' hordes of Birghton.

Of course I got a picture - its my thing at the moment - I don't know whether you noticed.




So I grab this photo and Lucinda pulls me away - by the arm - as soon as I've taken it. Like she's frightened of what I'm doing and I look at her and she's like "Just don't" and I look at her.

And then I swear one of the people in masks calls out "Hey Josh" to Josh, who's on his phone at the time... just that. Josh stops and looks at the masked one and then Lucinda pulls him along.

"Josh - come on lets walk"

And its an order.

And then they give each other a look.

A look so loaded - so riven with meaning that the air almost crackles between them.

And I hate that.