His Partners

5

I realise the shirt I picked out a day ago now has the faint cling of tobacco smoke to it. This I can blame entirely on my subject's habit, yet I only noticed it this morning as I got set to put it on. I've changed now, but even just detecting the hint of tobacco has reminded me of the weight of my article. I remember just how much I thought of it, how far I thought it would take me. Before Carrellés' letter came through, at least. Though I must remain optimistic. Should the Liar succeed, I will be able to pick up where I left off with my original plan.

And this afternoon will be just as integral to my life. Lull, the hermaphrodite, will be meeting me across town. A bookshop will serve as our flag post, and my notepad will record everything I require. I become more and more fuelled to see him as the clock ticks the seconds out of reach forever.

I have sufficiently killed time with the company of the television for a good few hours. My attention was half focused on the screen while the other half was occupied with sorting out a shelf of my bookcase. Perhaps our agreed meeting spot excited a flame in me to go through my own measly collection. I have decided a third of these I no longer need, so space has already been made. I'll put the pile into my bag so I can leave for the interview a little earlier. Pass the books over to a charity shop or such. There are a few desirable ones in here, so I can be confident they will bring others the joy they gave me the first time I entered their worlds.

And I will have the space on my shelf for whatever I find in my hand next. Perhaps I will find something in the bookshop this evening. In fact, I hope I do. I'm in the mood to not only enjoy but to learn from whatever is in front of me. Be it writing style or a head-tilting narrative, all the basic principles can be filtered into what I write for my own living. A well-writen investigative article, such as the one I am crafting, is a narrative on its own. Certain quotes should go in certain places and the thing as a whole should be as delicately placed together as a 3D jigsaw puzzle.

I remember having a 3D jigsaw puzzle and being completely entranced that something of this standard was even possible. It was a globe that came with its own stand so that, when it was completed, each slightly-curved piece slotted into place, it could sit proudly on the windowsill. It was a prize after it was completed, an accomplishment of the time and effort invested into it.

I catch myself as I think this – a prize? My weight falls back onto the floor as I fiddle with a book. Our minds must have the capacity to work identically, mine and the Liar's. But his "prizes" are his partners, and mine is as menial as a 3D puzzle of a globe, an item I owned as a child but no longer.

I make up my newest question as I pack the books into my bag. It is now an uncomfortable and heavy lump at my side. I almost regret my decision to take these to the charity shop, but I decide to press on; making one trip to the other side of town would be more useful than making two.

I set off at about quarter past three. It should not take me more than half an hour to get to the bookshop where we are due to meet, but the weight of my bag, plus the fact I want to drop all this off before our meeting may add on a good few minutes. I am certain the hermaphrodite will wait for me to find him, but I would rather be punctual. I am fretting about getting a letter similar to Carrellés', I suppose. Though it would be the hermaphrodite withdrawing his consent due to my unprofessionalism.

As I force my strides to get a little longer, I put the thought as far back as I can; this will not happen. I will show up to the hermaphrodite's side – provided I can find him in the bookshop – and I will interview to the best of my ability. And I will part from the individual just as the Liar breaks from his relationships – on good terms.