The Room of the Compulsive Monsters (not really, but that looks better than "untitled")
an excerpt

London. June, 1948. The war was over and things were being rebuilt. Including my life. My haircut was still military though I'd given up wearing the uniform. Stopped calling myself Captain. Stopped calling myself Joseph Case. I wanted to distance myself from that life. At least for the time being. Who knew what the future had in store for me?

The city was awash with reds and whites and blues and greens and golds. The Olympic games were coming in just a month. Heathrow Airport officially opened to international traffic, probably because of the games. The city was alive.

I was alive, but I was colourless. A monochrome man in a Technicolor world. The glitter and the spectacle had no appeal for me. Not after everything I'd seen and done.