I remember a bookseller from Maryborough, who moved away from the town when I was 15 or 16.  I had always liked him, and we’d often discuss fantasy series and writers that we both enjoyed.  He was tall, or seemed tall to me, and portly, and he had a thick brown bushy moustache, no beard.  And I remember receiving an ICQ message from he a few weeks after he had left, messages which were decidedly sexual in nature and, looking back, remarkably predatory, and not at all what I had expected when we exchanged details before he left Maryborough.

-6 May 2017

This post is part of the I Remember series.