The Stevie Nicks Pervert is sitting underneath his laptop typing variations of her cat's name into Facebook.
One of them will be her password.
It is this one:
There are things that he has to know. If she likes him. What she's told her friends. If he can trust her. But there isn't much to see. No one has been here for months. He starts to feel guilty.
He decides to do something to make himself feel better. He clicks on the word 'Info' and then the words 'Edit Information'. He clicks on the drop down bar that says 'Relationship Status'; chooses the words 'In a relationship with'; chooses himself. He feels incredibly powerful, like an ocean made of fists, cracking all its knuckles at once.
Love, he thinks. Love. He closes down the page and puts his trousers on. 'Love', he says out loud.
He has to check again in the morning; check that they're still together.
He finds ten messages of congratulation in his inbox; that thirteen other people have liked it. He shuts down the page and starts sweating. It was supposed to be a secret. He has misunderstood himself, and the internet. In the bedroom his phone starts to ring. He runs to it, and watches it ring. There is a voicemail. It is his work, relieved, asking him to rest; telling him to take as long as he needs to love her.
At half past six, on Scotland Today, there is a unscheduled thirty second piece about it. It is a gesture, from a friend's friend on the production team. At a quarter to seven, his mother explodes, driving into a house in her car, after hearing the news.
There is a police investigation. They suspect foul play. His mother, they discover, hadn't even owned a car. A plea is made for witnesses to come forward. The press leak his profile, and it gets infinity hits in an hour. The next day, at around six am, Facebook melts irretrievably.
In a leather chair in California, a rich man is angry. There is a man standing in front of him with sunglasses and other clothes on, polishing a large gun.
'Someone has fucked with my assets', the rich man is saying. 'I want this prick taken out.;
'With pleasure, boss' the other man says, unnecessarily.
The police cars arrive for the Stevie Nicks Pervert just as the sniper is putting the finishing touches to his rifle. He is standing on a nearby roof. There is a large crowd, and it makes targeting difficult.
'Fuck it', says the sniper, putting his sunglasses back on, closing his eyes, firing.
Unused to bullets, the crowd starts to scream; tear at their hair; wish that they could fly; eat one another.
The Finnish girl, a forgiving sort, watching it all on television, decides to give him a call, and on their second date, she makes a wonderful risotto and changes her 'Relationship Status' to 'It's Complicated'.