Chapter Six
Six
Flicker
Weirdly, there is candlelight. Max hates candles. The flickering drives him mad, gives him a belting headache and stops him being able to edit his videos. He’s one of those people who likes to have a block of solid illumination around him when he’s working. Even in the evenings, he sits in the lounge with the big light on. It’s one of my least favourite things about him.
But now he’s working by the light of a single candle.
Except, he’s not working.
He is watching a movie in full surround sound. His subwoofer is booming with the sound of explosions. An action film? He can’t stand action films. He says they ‘stultify his intellect’ and all the gunshots wake up his cat, Nemo, who likes to sleep a solid twenty-two hours a day. There’s no sign of Nemo now, though. Perhaps he’s hiding from all the Hollywood gunfire and grenades.
I put my coat on his antique hat rack and walk into the main expanse of the living room, where I see him sitting on the sofa.
Sitting next to him is a woman who is leaning her head against his shoulder, and judging by the long, dark braids, she is Gothic Girl Greta.