Today I walked back to the place where last week I saw a man’s head get kicked in and my breath caught as I thought there was blood still on the municipal slabs where he had lain. But I was being stupid, of course. It’s rained many times since then. It was just congealing strawberry fromage frais trailing along to a squashed Munch Bunch carton. I sat by the lily pond and watched someone too old and too young to be feeding ducks throw pita bread at the waterfowl. The echoes of screams from the playground and squealing gulls made me stand up too quickly and stare into the black water for quiet. As I my eyes ached down at the cosy nothing, yellow green milfoil moved suddenly closer and it hurt my ears like I had just dropped a lift floor.
I wondered why I am always peering into dark lakes half hoping to see a body.
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