Week Twenty-Six

The man looked quite ordinary to her. Nothing like the hollowed-out, gap-toothed, empty shell of a man that everyone had seen on the television. But still, she was sure. This man was a murderer, and she was serving him coffee.

Apart from fattening up a bit, he seemed to have gained quite a bit more money since escaping prison. His wristwatch and shoes looked expensive, and his wallet looked healthily plump. She almost wanted to laugh at the fact that she was serving a mocha to a man who had once been the most wanted man in Britain. It seemed so ridiculous.

Her next thoughts were about what she should do next. Did she suddenly shout, announce it to the coffee shop? Or wait for him to sit down, then subtly call the police in the back?

What she actually did was stupid. She handed him his coffee, said ‘thank you, have a nice day’, and watched him walk straight out of the shop and down the high street.


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