Your feet sting from the residue of bindies and the heat of the concrete stairs. You sweep the path as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid the attention of the Alsation next door. The rickety fence has held for years but you fear its effectiveness against a speeding, snarling mass of muscle. You’ve long since given up complaining. Amongst the druggies, thieves, and racing hoons, the neighbours stand out like a beacon. They attend church regularly, foster disadvantaged youth, would give you their last dollar. To criticise them is to rebel against royalty.
Categories: Fiction Friday