We meet again

Right! I’m bloody off! As I down the last of my gin.
Scrunching a loose piece of poetry into the pits of my overcoat pocket off to the next bar. I hastily jam the stiff end of my role up into my mouth. And pull out a box of swans.
It’s not the slightest bit cold but as per, I’m shaking like a shitting dog.
Bollocks! I hiss at the ground as I fumble about, hrrmmmm 24/25 matches on the floor?
I bend down further so my eyesight is parallel to the ground… hello my old friend. I think briefly.
I’ll be facing you again sometime this evening. I feel shifty as someone passing I believe just commented the same thing. Continuing to rummage around on the floor I grasp one of the matches through the tips of my gloves.
Strategy.
Biting my nails through wool had finally paid off. Uncomfortability and paranoia was working out for me. Who’s fucking laughing now, I begin to snigger, then begin to stand back up straight, but not before.
Flicking the end of the match against the abrasive edge of the soggy packet. It flicks lights and goes out.
In a harrumph. I’m certainly not introducing myself back to the floor, I’ve spoken to her already today and a second encounter would just be odd. Especially so soon after speaking.
I see a tall spindly fellow smoking a pipe down the way and I slide up along-side him raising a finger in a questioning manner.
But he quickly moves away. I exhale and look shiftily the other way. There must be someone else.
A man steps out from the shadows behind the biffa bins and offers me a light.
Ahhh errr yess. That’s it. Urm yes.
I stop talking as words I find are pointless in these situations and I couldn’t give a fuck who’s light I was using
Cheers. I say blowing smoke in his face.
He immediately demands a cigarette back. As he says something about returning the favour.
Siiiiiigh. I suppose so.
I pull out my tobacco and I feel a blunt then immediately cottonwolly feeling as the man from behind the bins smacks me over my swede, proceeding to snatch my by baccy out of my loosely fading grip.
I feel a combination
WACK…. WACK…. WACK.
All goes as dark as the poetry stuffed near my armpit. I turn and fall headfirst toward the ground.
This encounter with the ground was going to be very awkward under these circumstances and would need some explaining. No please madam it wasn’t my decision!
But as per, I had encountered her again a lot sooner than fate had predicted.