Or, A small update on The Boy…
I walk past his office twice a day to get to mine. I travel to and from the station he lives closest to, whenever I go to a gig. I look for him (of course I do) and I expect to see him in these places.
Where I don’t expect to see him is in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday, in Victoria Station, bag packed, waiting for another girl. A petite, beautiful girl.
I nearly threw up.
Enough. Enough now.