Poetry Forum

The text was from Clive, Harry's flat-mate. Clive was a newly employed train conductor from Basingstoke with a general apathy for life and everything it involved. Harry always thought it came with the job but Clive had always seemed miserable ever since they met through Harry's ex.

The message read:

"Running late. Forgot Keys. Don't go out."

"Please, wouldn't go amiss" said Harry aloud, "Either way best get myself home."

Harry was used to waking up in strange places, more than the usual bloke. It wasn't that he was junkie or a waster or anything like that. Harry's circumstacnes were far more unusual.

Harry had been suffering from somnabulism for years now. Waking up someplace unfamiliar and not knowing how he got there was a frequent occurrence in his routine. Fortunately for him he had never gotten himself any serious trouble. His house was roughly four blocks ahead and as he walked towards it, he tried in vain to remind himself of what really happened the night before.
On reaching his house he was duly shocked to see the front door ajar. Clive shouldn't have been home by that time, so the sound of the blaring stereo from their living alarmed him.
He removed a Swiss knife from his back pocket and angled it in position before entering.