Sunday

Beer. No shoes. A joint with Nick. The sun goes away. Cold. Central heating to 21. Rug. Couch. Cat. The light fades. Home alone. The television makes the room blue; blue with energy; black enamel in the shadows.

Carl and Evan turn up, they are just heading home from the city. Carl looked his usual strapping self. I swear he flirts with me, but he’s also kind of shy and sweet, which is easily mistaken with flirting. My gaydar has spluttered into life a couple of times just lately with Carl. A look. A gesture. Conspiring in a joke that I some how already am fully briefed. It is unsettling.

Summer Murder Mystery, Carl and Evan weren’t into it. They didn’t stay long.

The fire burned in the hearth and the detectives eyes. A body has turned up, badly damaged, suspected violent death. Our strapping detective, Marlo Steal, is relentless. He interviews all the suspects. He weighs up the evidence. The big, handsome detective solves the case, everybody can feel safe. Just a Sunday night in the city.

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