By TuppenceAbag


You remember her, don’t you?
You must do. I mean, she was
always hanging around here.
Her boyfriend lived in the
flat opposite. You must have
seen them both about. That’s
a certainty. You miss nothing.

In fact, thinking about it, you
probably saw him that night.
See if you can recall. It was a
long while ago. But length is
relative for you. You’ve been
around far longer than any of
us or them. Come on! Think!

He did a runner. Remember?
In the middle of the night.
Went to the seaside. Adriatic.
That’s nearest. Thinking of
running away further, probably.
Although, I doubt he was very
with it. The sea attracts fugitives.

They found him, of course. But
then you probably know that
too. Must have been the talk of
the bar, what with him being
local, and it making national
news. She was a nice girl. Before
she got out of her depth. Apparently

Lost her way I suppose. Lots of
tracks. Tracks in abundance. But
not the kind you follow to get
anywhere. It was too pure. That’s
what they said. She couldn’t handle
it. He’d had some too, but perhaps
less. Pushed her over the edge.

He panicked and scarpered. You
remember. She was already dead.
When he left, I mean. But legally,
he was responsible. Criminal
negligence. So he went down.
You’ll have missed seeing him
around. He drank here, right?

Met him many years later. Her
chap. Very mild-mannered. All
the fight kicked out of him by
drugs and prison. Crime doesn’t
pay in Italy. As you know.
Unless it’s a certain kind of
crime, with particular criminals.

It pays then. Hugely so.
Ad infinitum, one might
say. Ad nauseam, even.
Ad personam. But I’ll
stop with the Latin. I’m
sure yours is far better
than mine will ever be.



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