I can’t control it.I can’t stop it.I wished I could.Now ... I think I can. I know I can. I’m here with you, aren’t I?I like being with you.How...does someone like me fit into society?How do I make friends? I know when someone’s lying to me. That slight twist of fear, a splinter of regret, maybe a sprinkle of malice on top. Glee, depending on the person.It’s disgusting.People are disgusting.How do I find love? I know if someone is just pretending to be friendly to me. I know when someone is. It wasn’t his fault. It was all me.*It was Sunday afternoon and Lee’s kids were doing last minute homework at the kitchen table, tanned and dishevelled from playing in the sun all day. Their mother was due to pick them up in a few hours and their small overnight bags were ready and waiting in the hall.I wandered quietly around the house. I flicked through back copies of Architectural Digest and FRAME, examined schoolwork on the walls, watched half an episode of a sitcom. I picked up abandoned. More

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