42 The Red Slippers Revisited
Getting into the car outside my bedsit, I avoid looking up at the window where I know Thom is standing. I am certain my lips are flashing or my cheeks are still flushed, yet when Michael nods ’hello’, he shows no signs of suspecting anything. He starts the car and with a glance in the mirrors, pulls away.
“Is he okay?” Michael asks, although I’m not sure he is actually interested.
“He’s okay”, I say, staring at the world rolling by outside like a continuous rapid slide-show. Michael fiddles with the radio and after several options, settles on one station. I don’t recognise any of the songs they play. It feels like years since I listened to music, either religiously or just as background music. What kind of music am I actually interested in anyway? I can’t
