deepundergroundpoetry.com
Guilty By Association
He coughs, clears his throat. ‘As I see it, we have two options. The best thing would be going to the police. But if we did…well, think about it. You wouldn’t want to be driven out, would you? You’re innocent in all this.’
Journalists surrounding them. Cameramen chasing them to the car. A woman with a mop of unkempt grey hair snarling that she hopes they all rot, spittle flying from her lips. Afterwards, they return to the village - to the whispers, the sniggers, the social isolation.
‘What’s the other option?’
‘The other option? You play their game. You give the impression you want to comply. You arrange contact and that is where I come in.’
‘And what’s your plan?’
‘You would simply have to trust me - that’s if you chose the other option.’
Journalists surrounding them. Cameramen chasing them to the car. A woman with a mop of unkempt grey hair snarling that she hopes they all rot, spittle flying from her lips. Afterwards, they return to the village - to the whispers, the sniggers, the social isolation.
‘What’s the other option?’
‘The other option? You play their game. You give the impression you want to comply. You arrange contact and that is where I come in.’
‘And what’s your plan?’
‘You would simply have to trust me - that’s if you chose the other option.’
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