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me,’ said Chris. ‘I think we’re at that stage in the older guy younger guy gay relationship where the Stockholm Syndrome is wearing off.’
    We both laughed.
    ‘I’m serious, I seem to land these young guys and then I have to keep hold of them by buying them designer gear and paying their bills.’ A dark haired young guy danced up to Julian and without much introduction, they began snogging.
    ‘And now I’m single,’ said Chris. ‘Someone say something to cheer me up, please?’  
      ‘I had a blind date last Friday with a complete moron,’ said Marika. ‘I slept with him, then didn’t return his calls. Then he turned up on Monday at school as our Head OFSTED Inspector. He’s deciding on the future of my job and the school.’
    Chris and me laughed.
    ‘It’s not funny!’ she said.
    ‘It is, a little bit,’ said Chris.
    ‘You’re right… Let’s forget about all of this crap, go somewhere else and dance,’ said Marika.
    ‘Okay. You two grab a cab, I have to go and dump my boyfriend,’ said Chris, as if he was just popping to the bar for a packet of dry roasted peanuts.
    We moved on to a pub in Soho with a late licence. We danced, drank, and almost forgot our worries until the bar started thinning out, and the staff flicked the lights on. When we stumbled out, we were shocked to see it was light; it was almost six in the morning.  
    We waved goodbye to Marika who got the train home, Chris and me flagged down a taxi on Old Compton Street, which dropped me off at the Tesco Metro in Baker Street.
    ‘Thanks hun,’ I said. ‘Will you be ok, after Julian?’
    ‘I’ve got you and Marika, I’ll be fine,’ he said. I kissed Chris goodbye and made a dash inside Tesco to grab a pint of milk.  
    Where I ran into Adam. He was fresh from some kind of exercise, showered, and looking in rude health in a red tracksuit. I was wearing last night’s crumpled clothes and the remnants of last night’s eyeliner smudged across my cheek. We stopped for a moment, and stared at each other then he muttered 'excuse me' leaned across and took a pint of skimmed milk. I watched him walk away and go through the Self-Checkout. I was in shock. Rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move. I stared as he dropped coins in the paying dish took his receipt and left without looking back.  
    A thought jolted through my brain. He always drinks full cream milk. Since when does he drink skimmed? Who was he trying to impress? Suddenly, I was convinced he was seeing someone else. I dropped my milk, ran out of Tesco, and tried to find him amongst the crowds, but he had vanished. I then set off for his flat and rang the buzzer. When no one answered, I hammered on the door. It opened suddenly, and I came face to face with a middle-aged woman.
    ‘Who are you?’ I said.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said, shocked. She was wearing a towelling pink dressing gown, her grey hair was scraped back in a ponytail, and she wore specs on a silver chain.
    ‘It’s you. Do you drink Skimmed milk?’
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Don't play games with me,’ I said and barged past her and into the flat. I stopped short in the living room. It was full of boxes, some wicker furniture, books, and an old PC with a tabby cat sleeping on the monitor. I turned to her.
    ‘Where did you put Adam's stuff?’ I demanded.
    ‘I’ve just rented the flat from Adam Rickard, if that’s whom you mean,’ she said. She looked scared. ‘Whoever you are, I need you to leave. Now… Or I'll call the police.’  
    I looked around once more and then ran past her out onto the street. I was cold and tired so I came home and sat in last night’s clothes thinking... Adam has moved? What's going on? I still don't know what to think after all the thinking.  
    Although, I should go round and apologise to the woman with the cat on her computer.

December

    Wednesday 1st December   16.02
    TO: [email protected], [email protected]

    I slept fitfully and dreamt