I'd been away from the island for four days. Home and dry. I now lived in a home with a tidy kitchen, a clean bathroom and people who behaved in a manner that I found tolerable.
While my last interactions with my housemates had all been fairly calm and well-mannered, I was glad to have relocated and not exceedingly keen to talk to them again. I did have to return to the house though, to bring back the keys.
It was early afternoon. Bruno would be working at the coffee van. Unless he had a day off. For a year and a half, I'd had to pass him at the south quay footbridge, or detour and spend an extra ten minutes crossing the river. I took each route about an equal number of times.
I decided to walk along the riverside and approach the house from the south. It was the least conspicuous route. The only times I'd known Bruno to take it had been when he went to the gym, a journey he only made in the evenings.
I kept my eyes peeled as I walked through the shopping mall. The shops selling protein foods were high-risk territory. I made it out and along the Thames path. Past the tower blocks and round to the edge of the street.
I'd placed the keys in a sealed envelope and written "Dan's Keys" in black marker. I pulled it out of my bag, folded it once and slipped it into my front jacket pocket.
I glanced left and right along the road, then promptly marched towards the house. The lights were on in my room. Either they were using it or they'd found someone. I didn't wait to find out which. I walked up to the door, pulled out the envelope, shoved it through the letterbox in one motion and promptly left.
For thirty nervous seconds, I walked back down the street and along the adjoining road. By that point I was a safe enough distance away to avoid seeing them.
As far as I could tell, I'd now made my final trip to the house. The place I'd moved to eighteen months ago in a hurry when the landlord became ill. Leaving my friends, my cat and my home. Now I'd returned and if I had any say in things, I'd be back for a while.
While my last interactions with my housemates had all been fairly calm and well-mannered, I was glad to have relocated and not exceedingly keen to talk to them again. I did have to return to the house though, to bring back the keys.
It was early afternoon. Bruno would be working at the coffee van. Unless he had a day off. For a year and a half, I'd had to pass him at the south quay footbridge, or detour and spend an extra ten minutes crossing the river. I took each route about an equal number of times.
I decided to walk along the riverside and approach the house from the south. It was the least conspicuous route. The only times I'd known Bruno to take it had been when he went to the gym, a journey he only made in the evenings.
I kept my eyes peeled as I walked through the shopping mall. The shops selling protein foods were high-risk territory. I made it out and along the Thames path. Past the tower blocks and round to the edge of the street.
I'd placed the keys in a sealed envelope and written "Dan's Keys" in black marker. I pulled it out of my bag, folded it once and slipped it into my front jacket pocket.
I glanced left and right along the road, then promptly marched towards the house. The lights were on in my room. Either they were using it or they'd found someone. I didn't wait to find out which. I walked up to the door, pulled out the envelope, shoved it through the letterbox in one motion and promptly left.
For thirty nervous seconds, I walked back down the street and along the adjoining road. By that point I was a safe enough distance away to avoid seeing them.
As far as I could tell, I'd now made my final trip to the house. The place I'd moved to eighteen months ago in a hurry when the landlord became ill. Leaving my friends, my cat and my home. Now I'd returned and if I had any say in things, I'd be back for a while.
No comments
Post a Comment