I remembered that scene in Torch Song Trilogy where Harvey Fierstein and Matthew Broderick finally dare to move in together and one of them pops out to get a bottle of champagne to celebrate but doesn’t make it back. I thought of all the times I’ve had to run. I felt desperate to get home to my boyfriend. Was that a knife? I felt ashamed for not turning and fighting. After what felt like for ever I dared to look back.
The seafront was almost empty, so I could sprint properly. I knew I was going to have to run and that if I didn’t run fast enough I was going to have to fight. Walking home along Brighton seafront around midnight about a decade ago, I lowered my head passing a knot of trackie-suited loud-mouthed lads. Like with thunder, you feel it before you hear it. Violence has a way of crackling the air just before it erupts.
