Timeslip
By Clare London
All I can say is, that Sunday wasn’t a dark and stormy night. Far from it.
In fact, the autumn air was cool and dry, and the wind had settled into a gentle breeze through my bedroom window. It was around midnight, and I’d huddled up in bed after a hot shower, reading what the papers had laughingly called “a good book,” but which was boring me slowly to sleep.
Maybe I should have been out clubbing, visiting friends, going to the movies. Something that twenty-year-old single men like to do, gay or not. After all, I was a sociable guy, right? I joked around at work, I chatted with the girls on reception, I bought cakes on colleagues’ birthdays, I enjoyed the scandals from the latest TV reality shows.
But when I went home to my own place, that was just what it was
