Nevada was a distant memory and so were the bruises. My first exam was set for early December – sociology, the most expendable of the sciences. Studying social phenomena turned out to be pretty boring. It consisted of reducing everything to some meaningless generalization, when I had always maintained that every individual was unique; that everyone lived according to different principles, underwritten by their own distinctive backstories. Fred began to extend my freedom a little as well. Granted, only on Wednesday evenings and only for a few hours, then he would reel me back in around midnight to relieve him on the night shift. I made another attempt to contact my old acquaintances, but they were too busy with work and family commitments to find time for a drink. The only one available was Steven, a gay guy who I had known for years. He was easy to get along with – he never passed judgment and he was consistently open and honest. But going out with him became boring after a while. He would drag me around gay clubs where I’d get propositioned by lesbians, or, at best, strange men who wanted threesomes.
