Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2011 10:12:17 +1000
From: Matt Brown <tmmstory@hotmail.com>
Subject: Thoroughly Modern Michael

Disclaimers: If you are under 18 or the legal age within your country, stop
reading this. The author does not own Thoroughly Modern Millie or Monty
Python, both of which are owned by Universal Pictures. This work is
fiction.

Chapter 1: I?m Still Alive

I closed the door behind the last of the movers, and flopped down onto my
threadbare couch that had followed me faithfully throughout my dorm
years. After years of living with roommates, it was a welcome change from
clutter and ruckus. Then again, that?s what this move was all
about?change. I?d jetted from one side of the country to the other in an
effort to get free from the past and, hopefully, find a future for me,
Michael Creed.

Now that begs the question: what was so horrible about my past? Truthfully,
it was pretty bourgeois; I had felt so emotionally stilted in my
relationships to my family. Did my parents ever really know me, or I them?
We played our roles, until I decided in college that I was coming out,
roles be damned. While they remained placid on the surface, the cordial
distance turned into a frosty one. Of course, they still supported me
financially, as not to do so would cause even more disrepute. So I left
once I graduated?left the city of my birth, my family and my so-called
friends.

Alright, back to my apartment?it?s a quiet, one room studio with an
adjoining bathroom. I have very little in the way of furniture. My couch,
desk and bed dominate the room. I am not the best of cooks, so I have
invested in a microwave. A mini-fridge completes the kitchen
area. Tomorrow, I must go out and buy a bookshelf. I have a decent
collection, which was one of the few sources of pride for my parents. A
small TV (so old that I always imagine a dial on it) sits on a tiny coffee
table in front of the couch for my viewing leisure.

I start my new job tomorrow, at the Crimson Permanent Assurance. After
graduating with a BA in accounting, all the job offers except this one were
back in my old city. Unsurprisingly, picking the Crimson Permanent
Assurance was not a hard decision. Soon, per their motto, I?ll ?be sailing
the accountancy.? As glorious as that sounds, I?m sure I?ll fit in. I?ve
always been the quiet type?if I wore glasses that would complete the
picture. I concede to vanity on this issue, though, and use contacts.

Oh, is that what we?re on now? My appearance? Well, nothing too shocking I
hope: 5?10, 150 lbs, brown hair, blue eyes (I use clear contacts) and
slightly crooked nose (soccer). I wouldn?t throw me out of bed, so that?s
good I suppose. When I was younger, I used to get teased for my gangly
elbows and knees until I hit puberty. Other than that, I haven?t heard
complaints.

I began to feel hungry, not having braved the airline fare. I decided to
venture out and explore the area, hopefully finding some food in the
process. My studio is on the fourth floor, so I can already tell that I?ll
be facing a daily dilemma: stairs or elevator? I chose the elevator, and
emerged from my building into the brisk evening air, a welcome change from
my stagnant apartment. The left looked more promising, with more flashy
signs while the right seemed to be mainly office buildings. After wandering
a few blocks down, I came across a small Indian restaurant. I went in,
whereupon the hostess sniped on me immediately.

?Table for how many?? Accompanied by a hopeful glint in her eye.  ?No, just
one.? Me, in an unrepentant tone, followed by her long appraisal.

She seemed somewhat mollified later when I pronounced tikka masala
correctly while ordering, having eaten Indian frequently while in
college. I?m sure that with repeated visits, she?ll warm up to me, as I do
leave decent tips (had a short stint as a waiter). My hunger sated, I
wandered back out and went right or left as whim dictated. Eventually, I
came across a small bookstore and, of course, felt the urge to add to my
collection.

I entered and not seeing anyone, said loudly, ?Anyone here??

?Yeah, hey listen?I?m closing in ten minutes, so make it snappy, huh?? This
came from behind the counter, apparently where the owner was crouched doing
god-knows-what.

?Well, if you could just direct me to where you have Anne McCaffrey?s
novels, that?d be good, thanks.? I was a little annoyed by his tone and his
hiding.

?Are you for real?? He punctuated this by rising up from behind the
counter, one brow raised in disbelief. ?An adult male, reading her novels?
Huh, you don?t look much like a geek.?

A bit stung, I replied, ?I?m sure you have a lot of regulars with this kind
of customer service.? Alright, in the interest of full disclosure?I could
see why he?d have a lot of regulars, looking the way he did. Blonde with
hazel eyes, he looked damn good. Also, I?ve always admired a man who can
raise just one brow. Says something about his character, or so I?d like to
believe.

He raised his hands in apology, and said, ?Sorry, I just think out loud
sometimes. Bad habit, I know. What I meant was that you look, uh...sorry,
never mind. I have McCaffrey?s books over here, in the young adults
section.? With that he moved around the counter and led me to an area
closer to the back. I saw many that I already had, but I picked out one
which I had never before noticed. I went back to the front to pay.

?Nice. I thought this was one of her better ones myself.? He scanned it
through.

?Huh. Didn?t know someone like you would be reading McCaffrey as
well. Imagine that.? I wasn?t feeling very generous at the moment.

?Aw, come on, you won?t be teasing me about that every time you come here,
will you? Listen, let?s start over, proper introduction and all. I?m
Matthew Hemingway, no relation to Ernest. I was born and raised here, and I
love this bookstore like no other. Now, your turn.?

He could be charming when he wanted to be, and I?m only human. I gave him a
brief background, and hoped he wouldn?t ask questions. He did welcome me as
a new resident, and said that he hoped I?d be back. I almost said yes on
the spot in response to his puppy-dog face, but I am made of stronger
stuff.

I left and returned to my apartment, again settling onto my couch. I opened
my new book, and began to read. Each time that I stopped for a break,
thoughts of Matthew would return to the fore. I began to feel peeved?after
all, he didn?t give off any signs of being gay, although my gaydar was
pretty well-established as defunct. Even if he was gay, what were the odds
that someone like him was single? One thing that I?ve been good at
throughout my life is keeping my expectations realistic. However, when it
came to Matthew, I was finding it hard to quash my hopes. I put the book
away and decided to call it a night, having an important day ahead of
me. Another thing I?m good at is falling asleep quickly. Luckily, I had no
trouble and entered blessed nothingness in a matter of minutes, new bed
notwithstanding.