Tuesday, October 26, 2021
Short story

Homed – a Crime Short

The Tall One said, ‘Here’s his bag. Any problems, Enid, ring me.’ He looked down. ‘Bye, Wilf, you’ll be fine. High five?’ He held up a hand with his fingers spread. I didn’t bite them, though they’re a good size. The front door closed behind him, leaving me in this new sleeping place. 
It smells of soap, long-ago cats, piss of Young not so long past, and sugar. My shoes are off, bag taken away. 
The female says, ‘Come and make yourself comfortable, dear. It’s nearly dinner-time. Hungry?’
I nod. I want to eat.

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Rosalind Minett