FOLLOW THE MAN

Gordon sighed as he looked at the dingy grey brick of the front of the church where Life Support meetings were held. He just couldn't take it... he couldn't take feeling Paul's patronizing smile on him, never again. The bastard didn't have AIDS anyway-what right did he have to tell them to live for the day? Gordon only remained on the face of the earth because he didn't have the spine to commit suicide...

So he had adopted this pseudonym of sorts… Created a character that was so wholly someone else that he could hide from his disease. No one had ever recognized him while he was wearing the black trench coat with the collar up. Not yet, anyway. Maybe because it was so unlike the Gordon everyone knew, to sell crack and marijuana and just about every other illegal substance he could get his hands on.

He slept around, when he was The Man, usually with clients and never protected. He wanted them to suffer the way he did. They never found out until he was long gone, and even then couldn't pin the disease to him.

He didn't know why he wanted to hurt all those female that came after him. He'd never really understood his own motivations. But why should they remain healthy and happy when he was miserable and dying? It hadn't been his fault that he'd been infected… He'd tried to be careful.

He turned away from the church, pulling up the collar of his coat. He couldn't- or wouldn't -stop now... The repercussions didn't really matter anymore.

The Man cast a last contemptuous glance over his shoulder, at the group of people leaving the church, looking as tired and drained as Gordon felt.

The Man turned around, took a deep breath and headed for his usual street corner, adopting his usual cocky grin.

No day but today.