48. The Egg Man Cometh

The Obsessive Diary · Nov 5, 2025 · 3m

I had painted myself into a corner the day he arrived. Returned to the farm after a year away I no longer knew where I fitted into this thing we’d started, a commune in Surrey, everyone else getting on with it but I was lost. I’d set about my bedroom floor with white gloss, a fresh start, and forgotten to leave a way out. Barefoot, dripping paintbrush, my back against the wall, he appeared in the doorway and introduced himself. He didn’t say, I am the egg man, but we came to know him as that. Many years ago when he was just a boy from Kent, he’d had a dream about a place in Mexico. Like it…