There was only the gym. It seemed like just getting through till the evening. And then it was the job; the Norway. This was Birmingham, his city, he was back. He had friends here, a past. So why was he behaving as if he were an immigrant in a new country? With nothing? Sometimes he thought about his old mate, Jack Stevens. He was the only real white friend he had ever had. They had done their training together and shared a flat for a time. Jack used to go to Buddhist meditation on Thursdays. Had the piss taken out of him rotten by the rest of the guys. All except Dowd, their gaffer. He respected Jack, made him his number two. Live in the present, Jack used to say. Concentrate on that. Well that’s what he was doing wasn’t it? Living in the present. Not thinking about the past. Not thinking about the future. Just the now. Today. The gym. The club. But it wasn’t right; he knew it. Because it was starting to feel like he didn’t have a past, didn’t have a future. And he couldn’t live like this for very long.
