It was always about now, even then.

All the stuff that had happened to me had happened, all the stuff that was going to happen hadn't.
Time was as still as the afternoon: May, like all memories become.
The Clash's 'Should I stay or should I go?'dropped rhetorically from Hugh's windows onto the quad.
10 men sauntered past, whites camouflaged for blossom. Their leader shouted something up in the direction of Hugh's room. I couldn't make it out above the second verse. He looked back to the others blankly before he noticed me for the first time.
'You'll do', he said.
I was all in grey but he must have deemed it irrelevant.
Minutes later the red dot was hurtling toward me..
All the stuff that had happened to me had happened, all the stuff that was going to happen to me hadn't.