The pounding didn’t stop. It got worse.“Paul Robertson, you open this door right now!”I grunted again and rolled off the bed. I had fallen asleep on top of the duvet and was still in the clothes I wore last night. After polishing off the Scotch with Mark and Jem, the three of us had gone to a pub just off campus, ordered some bar food and drank until the landlord kicked us out at closing time.“It’s probably open,” came Mark’s voice from the other side of the door. “I doubt he was capable of locking it last night. I know I wasn’t.”The door opened and Imogen strode in as if she owned the place.“My God, look at the state of you. I was going to ask why you weren’t at breakfast, but I guess it’s kind of obvious.”I grunted again. Words are over-rated anyway.“Come on, go and shower and get dressed. We have a lecture in half an hour. You can get something to eat after that.”“Just leave me alone,” I whined.“Get the fuck up now and go clean yourself up! I’ll make you some coffee. You’ll have to. My father fetched a photo book from a shelf and handed it to me. "Whydon't you sit down again? Take your time!" Should we call a doctor?" my mother asked my dad."There's no need. He's just a bit tired!" he said to her, and then heturned to me. "Peter, we'll be in the kitchen so you can have some space.If you need us, just call us!"I opened the book. I knew it very well because I helped my parentsputting it together and printing all the pictures from the files I had onmy cloud storage. There were family pictures from when my sister and Iwere born to just a month back, and I had seen them just before leavingfor my holiday.I skipped the first few years and I went to find the high schoolpictures. In a mind-bending twist, wherever I appeared in a photo I waswearing a skirt. Not just a skirt, very feminine shoes too. I rememberedbeing in those photos, even setting up the timer on the camera to snapsome of them, but I had no memories of wearing other than pants andtrainers or black men's.
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