The wrong trousers

I remember being small - small enough to walk through legs like they were buildings - and following the wrong pair of trousers. Brown trousers that grew up out of dark brown shoes like my da's. I followed them down the supermarket aisle through skyscraping adults in the big city of my little world. And then I looked up, and I remember the roaring sound of panic that set my heart stammering.

He must have found me, da, although that bit didn't stick around for long in my store of remembrances. Just the moment of realisation that sounded sirens in my chest. Sometimes I think I've been following the wrong pair of trousers all my life.