CHAPTER 8
I didn’t get back to the flat until well after seven having stopped off at the supermarket to buy a bottle of Malbec and a moussaka and salad, I couldn’t face the thought of cooking; the day had proved far more draining than I’d anticipated.
As I stood in the entrance lobby of the flats waiting for the lift – why did it always seem to be on the top floor every time I wanted it – I noticed a slight smell that seemed familiar. Not unpleasant it increased in the confines of the lift. A man’s scent like a particularly pungent aftershave. I sniffed a bit harder, it was really rather agreeable but why did it evoke in me a sense of deja vue?
The lift doors opened on my floor and as I let myself into the flat I dismissed it from my mind as the meal and a glass of wine beckoned.
Later
