outside my window.

Outside my window the view is green and suburban, the verandah posts, the overgrown wisteria, the asphalt of the road. Some electricity wires and perhaps a few parked cars.

A couple of days ago, excitement broke into this small world, in the shape of two police cars, an ambulance, several armed policemen and the neighbours running up and down. We looked out, speculating. We found out later that a boy from next door, sixteen years old and brain-damaged from birth, had broken into the house next door to us on the other side, in order to spend a few happy hours naked in the neighbour’s bathroom. His parents had been fraught with worry while he was missing, of course, and the neighbours with the bathroom had rather a shock when they got home.

But we just looked out the window, speculating, until everything in the street went quiet again.


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