I was twenty-one, or twenty-two. I had gone clubbing with friends, and I had met a girl. It did not happen a lot. Girls did not dislike me entirely, but I was what they did when nothing better was on the cards. So this girl, she called herself Misty, brought me back home with her. She lived in a squat (it was the time of the last squats in Camden) with ten other people and a few cats, or this is what she said. I didn’t see anybody - no people, ho cats - while we got to her room. It was small, with a battered Thai mattress thrown on the floor, and those cheap black magic books which seem impressive to teenagers. She kept it clean.
She Called Herself Misty - A Very Short Story
She Called Herself Misty - A Very Short Story
She Called Herself Misty - A Very Short Story
I was twenty-one, or twenty-two. I had gone clubbing with friends, and I had met a girl. It did not happen a lot. Girls did not dislike me entirely, but I was what they did when nothing better was on the cards. So this girl, she called herself Misty, brought me back home with her. She lived in a squat (it was the time of the last squats in Camden) with ten other people and a few cats, or this is what she said. I didn’t see anybody - no people, ho cats - while we got to her room. It was small, with a battered Thai mattress thrown on the floor, and those cheap black magic books which seem impressive to teenagers. She kept it clean.