B

The Woman Over The Road

I can see the twitching of the net curtains and I know she's there.
Just looking out, her ruby nose pressed to the window, vying for the
gossip that would leave her satisfied.
It is with such irony that I write this.
She is, afterall, an old lady with a mission.
She's the undercover copper from Scotland Yard.
And I know she's after me.
So I'll go.