We don’t have much in common, you and I, said William, and closed the door carefully as he left.
Billy did not agree with him. They had their names, for a start, and their love of crustacea. The colour of the sky on a spring morning and that odd little bar on the Portuguese beach with the over-familiar owner. The fact neither of them objected to navy worn with black. The way they both lapsed into alliteration when there was a chill in the air.
He tried to tell William this, but his calls and emails and letters went unanswered.