Almost twenty years.
The 7ft tall electronic gates opened, Derek stepped forward just three steps. Stopping, he turned to see the gates close behind him. He smiled, and took a deep breath in. Freedom.
So this was it. The place they'd set up for him to live. Piece of shit.
He scanned the bedsit, it'll do.
Time for a walk, he decided.
He walked on to the busy street cautiously, Were people looking at him? He slowly walked past a café, the smell of sweet cinnamon teased his nostrils, inviting him to the café. He turned back and strolled into the busy environment. Calm and confident, he told himself. He walked up into the counter, smiling, yet taking in practically every detail of the young assistant.
"Hello there, welcome Betty's buns, what can I do for you?" He pondered for a second looking at all the delicious treats.
"I'll have a mocha latte and a cinnamon bun, please?"
"Of course Sir." he said, "Anything else?" You, Derek thought.
For thirty five years he'd denied his sexuality, but when he'd met Lewis - a young, toned, african gay male, he just melted, and he thought he'd been able to trust him, but no. Nobody understood Derek, Nobody.
The young assistant from this café, Jamal reminded him of Lewis so goddamn much and that's why he had to die.
The 7ft tall electronic gates opened, Derek stepped forward just three steps. Stopping, he turned to see the gates close behind him. He smiled, and took a deep breath in. Freedom.
So this was it. The place they'd set up for him to live. Piece of shit.
He scanned the bedsit, it'll do.
Time for a walk, he decided.
He walked on to the busy street cautiously, Were people looking at him? He slowly walked past a café, the smell of sweet cinnamon teased his nostrils, inviting him to the café. He turned back and strolled into the busy environment. Calm and confident, he told himself. He walked up into the counter, smiling, yet taking in practically every detail of the young assistant.
"Hello there, welcome Betty's buns, what can I do for you?" He pondered for a second looking at all the delicious treats.
"I'll have a mocha latte and a cinnamon bun, please?"
"Of course Sir." he said, "Anything else?" You, Derek thought.
For thirty five years he'd denied his sexuality, but when he'd met Lewis - a young, toned, african gay male, he just melted, and he thought he'd been able to trust him, but no. Nobody understood Derek, Nobody.
The young assistant from this café, Jamal reminded him of Lewis so goddamn much and that's why he had to die.
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