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Now, I stood by a window. So much had changed, and somehow nothing had changed at the same time. A stranger had taken me into a room of zigzagging floors, giant metal boxes growled and hissed outside, waiting for me to join them. Yet I was still inside that forest. While my face presented clean, I could still feel the crying colour on my cheeks. ‘this wasn’t meant to happen,’ the stranger smiled at me, ‘I’m sorry about all the stairs, there was just not other place to do this picture.’ He laughed as if he was brand new, as if he had never been scorned, ‘sorry, I forgot to ask, what is your name?’ ‘Does it matter? We’re just painting a picture and then I’ll probably never see you again.’ He lifted his eyebrows at me in shock. ‘Don’t be so negative,’ he teased, ‘I’m Zack.’ He held out his hand, a sign of friendship and acceptance. ‘That’s a very nice name,’ I turned from him and set some paper down on a desk. Friendship was love, acceptance was love and love was an end. He. "I'm going to the library today. Remember?" Of course I remember." In fact, I was counting on it."Good. Good." He rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and was out the door in no time. "Bye Dad. Love you." The door slammed behind him."Bye Sweetie. Don't slam the door, close it properly," I said to the closed door.I could hardly concentrate on anything but I tried to relax with a hot bath, shaved my face and my genitals closely, dabbed my best aftershave on (face only!), ironed my Rolling Stones T-shirt, dressed and sprayed deodorant under my armpits.Then I started pacing, waiting for time to pass.At four o'clock I drove to the station and parked near the cafe. The Golden Primrose was more like an American diner than an English cafe. It was very wide (or long if you looked at it that way) but not very deep. It had a door at each end, a long bar going from end to end with high stools in front of it and stalls with benches and tables all along the window front. I sat down in one.
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