Monday, 30 September 2013


Her long brown hair swayed slightly as she brushed the concrete floor, collecting the abandoned cigarette butts and the bits of litter that covered the floor.
It was early in the morning when I saw her. Her yellow jumpsuit lit in the slow, winter morning light.
I approached her quickly and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn't seem to startle.
"Hi." She said, and turned around to get back on with her job. Her face was different from the last time I saw her. It had sunken in, like the Titanic when it had lost all hope.
"Did you kill those people?" I asked. It seemed far from her normal behaviour.
She turned to look at me again. "I'm serving eight life times. Seven for the people I killed and one for luck."
"I didn't ask you a question for that answer."
"Why does it matter?" Her eyes were cold and soul less.
I sighed "Well?"
"No. But nobody listens to the innocent."
"I believe you."
Somebody shouted in the background . "OI! GET BACK TO WORK!"
She flinched and turned away again, sweeping the ground and wouldn't be talked to again.

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