It was a torrential Sunday, I sat on my creased, leather sofa; my mood was neutral, I passively viewed the flat screen television that just screened excess media. I grasped the cold remote and shut it down, some peace would then come my way.
" William, remember you have that interview at the newspaper office ? " reminded father as he dried the dish; he was always busy cooking and cleaning the large Victorian house. " shit ! " I yelled as I remembered I had not yet finished the research paper required for the interview. I had not even attempted it; I spent my free time in a trance of procrastination.
It was freezing in the house, I pulled a winter jumper over my head though it was March. " even more procrastination ? " asked my brother as I had still not began the research paper on modern homophobia. " is it because it's personal ? " asked brother sympathetically and mildly down heartedly.
I was pansexual, I had only realised it recently; I falsely convinced myself I was straight when I was obviously in love with my friend, my straight and insensitive friend.
Modern homophobia was still an issue, every day I'd venture through social media; learning of stories and slurs about suicides of non straight teens.
I flicked on my desk light, applied my reading glasses and threw my faithful journal onto the desk. I swiped up stray pens and aligned them. Finally to complete the intangible work atmosphere I switched on the radio.
" maybe tomorrow " I said hesitantly as I almost turned off my lamp.
" this just in... Cisgender bi woman hangs them self in Chicago " I gasped at the radio and grew angry; I began writing the paper, just to say " fuck you " to the homophobic community.
YOU ARE READING
CORRESPONDENCE
Historical FictionLIFE ON PAPER. William Janes was forever in a eternal unknowing of how his life would plan out. His heart changed so fast, and the only evidence of his true emotion was in his fresh ink, written on paper.
