They sat across from one another making small talk.
The traffic was always busy in this part of town. The older man had plenty of time to watch his old school go by. He thought about his rotten maths teacher. She was an overweight woman with a bad attitude. He drifted back to the day the snotty-nosed kid from second year found him smoking behind the library. He remembers how he’d gone to the old bat and reported him. She had him in detention for three days. Getting home late from school each night had meant a cuff round the back of his head from his old man. He smiled at the thought that no one could actually link him to the kid ending up in hospital with a broken nose.
He mumbled, “God! How I hate do-gooders; always interfering…” He looked up, realising he’d voiced his thoughts.
The younger guy opposite looked a bit uncomfortable. He said, “Anyway, you were telling me…”
“Yes, that’s right. Well, you know what it’s like when you leave a cupboard door half open so that it reminds you that you’re in the middle of doing something, then some do-gooder comes along and closes the bloody thing?” He grimaced. “You’d be surprised how stuff like that builds up.”
His companion shrugged. “He did that?”
“He did, once too often!”
“But, the gun?”
“Oh! That? It just happened to be there.”
He sighed and sat back. The seat was comfortable enough, but the handcuffs were beginning to chafe.