Over the next few days, Alexander thought about Dream Man constantly. He visualised his tall, dark, muscular man everywhere he went, and sometimes caught himself smiling invitingly at the imagined lover. Dream Man was even more alive at night, when Alexander was alone and had nothing else on his mind but the man he was sure he would conjure into existence. Dream Man was his final thought of the day, and was often dragged into Alexander’s dreams.
Two weeks later, Alexander was doing his rounds. It was a Thursday and the box of mail was barely half full, and half of what he did have was no more than circulars and catalogues. It was a warm day and the flies were annoying him. He turned into Waterman Avenue and grabbed the small bundle of mail for the houses along that street. There was a rat
