Chapter Two“Excuse me, where’s your bathroom?” I hear him call from the back door.
“Oh, please come in, it’s just over there...” When he enters, I point out the right door in the hallway.
The contrast between us is even more obvious to me now, he looks like everything I am not in his formal wear which probably cost more than my car is worth. At the same time I—at twenty-four—still dress like I did as a teenager, faded jeans and t-shirts with inappropriate prints. The only ‘fancy’ clothes I own are worn exclusively to job interviews and then too they’re Primark or at a stretch, Next. You could mistake me for a simple idealist, not moved by worldly possessions, when in fact I am just a bit stingy and lazy.
Plus, I’ve never really understood fashion.
Strangely, he looks quite at home, wal
