You know when you catch something out of the corner of your eye and whip around to check…and there’s nothing there? If there’s one thing that I regret, then it’s reacting to that impulse. If I’d ignored that flash of movement and light, then maybe I wouldn’t be lying here. Then again, maybe he would have found another way to draw me in.
As it was, I *did* twitch, turn my head and stare.
It’s not unusual of me to be outside my flat of an evening enjoying a cigarette. I could trot out all manner of cliches about time alone, time to think..but it would all be so much bollocks. Fact is, I enjoy smoking. I also enjoy driving fast, drinking and pretending to shoot people with paint pellets, lasers or online. Whichever is most accessible at the time.
Enough self-justification. I was having a fag.
Not much tends to happen in streets like mine – Leith Walk is not the warzone that some would have you believe. Not any more, anyway. And certainly not the streets directly off it, where I stay. The most exciting thing that happened to me over the last two years was finding a bloke in the gutter on a cold night in December. Paramedics duly called, responsibility discharged.
That opinion is certainly not anything to do with being a “hard case”, either. Cabbies and random pub punters have been known to call me “big man”, but in these parts, that’s generally just a friendly way of saying “fatty”. I’m only 5’10” ferchrisake.
No, I’m your common or garden, middle-class, almost 40 year old bloke. No martial arts, no weapons training, rather unfit…not exactly a force to be reckoned with. Although, I did think that I was somewhat worldly wise until all this. Talk about a rude awakening.
Back to that cigarette…