It was raining when I woke and I knew that this was not a
good sign. I remembered a meeting I’d had with a university lecturer years
before. He had an easy, creeping smile and shiny, sweaty skin that sticks in my
memory. During our meeting we’d crossed
the campus to get coffee, only to find ourselves having to run back to his
office in the unseasonal rain which had started to fall from the heavens. “The
rain is an auspicious sign”, he said smiling at me as he twisted and flicked the
black leather band he wore around his wrist. I’d turned and left his office
never to return. I felt it then and I felt it now. Something was very wrong.
They say stories start at the beginning, but looking back I
can’t quite pinpoint when that moment was.
I padded out into the house and everything looked so normal,
papers on the bench where I had left them, a solitary cup still draining on the
sink. Pulling back the curtains the sun was streaming through the window and my
feeling of dread grew stronger. Despite all evidence to the contrary, something
had changed.
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