Thy Fearful Symmetry
“He could taste the cleaning fluid last used on the ancient percolator. Fortunately, he had not entered the tiny café because he was thirsty. Though his eyes were on the steam rising from the cup, he was barely aware of his surroundings. Pushing past the confines of his body, he let his spirit expand outwards like a mist, onto the litter-strewn street, across the neighbourhood, until it engulfed the city. Ambrose forged himself into a spiritual net, and awaited Pandora's arrival. Cursory exami...nation of the newspaper left behind by the last poor soul desperate enough to inflict the café's offerings on himself told Ambrose that he was in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in the Northeast of England, a little over two years before the future he had fled. The city, a tough, vibrant place that he had visited many times during his long stay on this planet, was barely two hundred miles from Glasgow, where even now his present day self was plotting and subverting, having yet to fall in love with an angel.MoreLess
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