I take a last look her. She is, was, beautiful from what I can see of her face, shrouded as it is in reddish-brown curls. As I turn to the door, my eyes fill and I don’t know what to do. The tears run down my cheeks. I didn’t know her but I could have. I might have liked her.

I race through the hallway, surprising myself once again at the mirror. Me, still. But changed somehow. Younger? No, less distinct, perhaps. I pause and then run back into the room to wipe down the things that I have touched. The handle, the sofa. There’s nothing else that I can remember so I shut the door behind me and wipe that handle down too, all with the edge of my damp coat.

My heart skitters as I stand on the cold tiles in my bare feet. The police, I think, if the guy calls the police, and I am found here in this state, I will be undone. I’m sure I can hear a siren in the distance. I must move.

I unravel my coat, letting my shoes drop to the Victorian tile. There is the cold of something hard and flat against my skin but I pull my coat over it, wrapping myself up. Its dampness and weight gives me the sensation of walking through mud. I pull open the door with the edge of my sleeve and I am outside. The cold night air washes over my face and into my lungs. I breathe once, then, keeping my head low, I run. I have to hide. A man like me knows about hiding, but tonight I have to hide from myself because I can sense it coming upon me. A feeling of claustrophobia, of meeting myself in my head, and when that happens, I’ll have to leave myself, become nobody. I’m not hiding from the police, it’s not that at all.

Before. Before, when I was like you, I had your problems and your conveniences. I know you think that we spontaneously appear, caked in dirt, and that we just materialise on the street, but we don’t. Remember, we bring ourselves here from some warm place. We only come when the balance weighs in favour of leaving, when the problems of staying outweigh the rest. I was like you, before. For example, I used to have a brother.

I stop for a breath as I round Hyde Park Corner Tube. I drop my head and hurry towards Westminster – Green Zone – each stride stretching sinew so that I can cover as much distance as possible in the wet.

I had a brother. Have. Had?