Stagboy is walking under the midday sun. An older man (late-30s) looks longly at Stagboy as their paths intersect and the older man joins the footpath ahead of Stagboy. The older man is wearing plain hiking gear (khaki shorts; rolled up shirt; backpack) bookended by bright blue cap and boots. He is tall and and his face rugged. His legs look strong. He walks a slightly circuitous route - Stagboy follows.
Every time the older man turns a bend he looks back. Stagboy follows him down four streets and across two. The older man walks fast and Stagboy speeds up to close the gap. The older man glances back, then slows down. On the next corner he stops, turns and puts a cigarette to his lips. Stagboy thinks for a second as he approaches the smoking man, who flashes his eyeline at Stagboy… just before the critical distance Stagboy changes course by crossing the road and carries on in a different direction, away from the watching man.
FRANK is finishing off this week’s piece for his column in the local newspaper. For over 30 years he’s been writing a weekly column about his time travelling trips.
To tie in with the First World War commemorations he uses the oft-quoted anecdote about the time he materialised in the town seconds before a bomb landed in the field behind him. The bomb, dropped by a zeppelin (or was it a plane?), did not explode. In fact, he ends his piece by wondering if it’s still there and says if his back wasn’t playing up so much, he might be tempted to take a shovel and dig. Maybe save that one for Fireworks Night, he suggests.
He types his last word, pours a whisky and sits back in his chair, reminiscing in the dark.
Stagboy’s attempt at manscaping has gone awry and now he has a ‘Hitler moustache’ above his cock… he can’t let his boyfriend see this. Options are to shave it off completely, but he doesn’t really want that prepubescent look, or… he searches for a matching felt-tip pen.
A distant co-worker, here to meet another colleague, has stopped by Fuzzypeg’s desk. The two lightly know each other through a social circle outside the office. Midway through their friendly chat Fuzzypeg notices that THE SPIDER (that’s his pet name for her) is intently observing with a sideways glance.
He gave her this name because her spidery senses are always keenly trained on the meta-life of the office. Once during after work drinks she betrayed the fact that she clearly Googles colleagues with a throwaway remark about something from Fuzzypeg’s past. Right now, it’s clear to him she is trying to suss the relationship between Fuzzypeg and the man standing to the side of his desk.