My Diary: Meeting The Black Widow In A White Dress

I had to rise early like a bunsen burner flame in the first science lesson of the day‭; ‬rushing up the pebble strewn path with rocks in my bag.‭ ‬I watched the bus arrive through curled hands,‭ ‬writing my destination on my finger nails as the lady behind me stubbed her cigarette out on the designer sunglasses of a pantomime villain.‭ ‬Realising I would be lost if I hid my hands in my pockets I grasped the first trapeze artist arm that dropped down before me‭; ‬arriving in the safety net at the same time as a small child in a tartan duffle bag and her mother with a crowded cobweb for a face.‭ ‬Flower rockets flew from the refugee planted borders as the doorbell was pressed and a lady emerged with questions on one hand and answers on the other‭ ‬-‭ ‬I was very disappointed when she refused to clap.


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