Will 1993 open up the new chapter in Simon's life that he's been craving?

I didn't notice the alien black boots at the bottom of Tam's stairs when I arrived for Sunday supper last night. If I had, I might have bailed—run home in a screaming confused indignant panic. I know I can sometimes be fruity unobservant when my mind's off on its own adventure. Plus, I was hurrying because I was late for supper after a full day of getting off until I was chafed and faint, so nothing registered as I landed inside the downstairs entry, chucked off my own boots and threw my coat over the peg. I moved upstairs and into Tam's flat naive as a new spring leaf.

Simon thinks he's finally met someone he can open up to. Well, physically, at least—and right now that's the most urgent thing. The object of his obsession is an ideal match on paper, but he's not sure he can get over his past and enjoy his new fixation, which grows more intense with every turn of a diary page. Simon is still intent on scribbling as honestly as he can in his journal, but he knows he might be writing himself out of a chance for liberation instead of finally taking the plunge…and sticking with it.

Scribbler Hackit Press

Cover design: Ehsan

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