From a series of short form fictions taking inspiration from collage
“Are you following me?” He called out, in an off-hand, rather surly manner. The voice – familiar as it was, sounded close behind me, causing me to turn around startled.
“Am I, following you?” I said, conveying a degree of disbelief. “I could ask you the same question, Peter.”
If I didn’t know him, if at that precise moment I hadn’t felt an immediate, fuzzy sense of attraction towards him there – stood shoulders slumped, staring down at his shoes with his hands in his pockets… I would surely have described the situation as unnervingly creepy.
“I’m going to the show Peter, what are you doing here?”
Brinkinfield 