I met her at my first job. We got talking in a particularly horrible pub at an obligatory post-work drinks thing. “I know you” was her opening line. “You went to university with my housemate. You have a twin”.

I was affronted and amused. I drank her in. Diminutive, dark, with flashing eyes of black liquid, she was dressed like a door girl from the 1980s; a pinstripe suit, huge clip-on earrings and sling back court shoes. Not a trace of make-up. No bag. Alone. Without context, without a history, she had arrived into my life and nothing would be the same again.

We chatted more, drank more, laughed more and got a cab to a house party. Stood in a noisy dark hallway some hours later she slipped her arm through mine: “We're going to be great friends. I can feel it”. A knowing nod, a Cheshire Cat grin.

“I ghosted my best friend and it was the best decision I ever made”