by Frank Morgan
There’s a dog barking at the end of the street. It’s 5am, I’ve been here so long I’ve bitten through my bottom lip, I can taste blood and my hands are frozen stiff. I like watching though, I spy on her through the gaps in the curtains, I’m making notes even though my hands are too cold to write anything legible. I can taste blood and dirt and I smell like cigarettes. I hear the bin lorry coming from half a mile away but I’m not going to be seen. When she leaves the house I’ll follow her, I’ll watch where she goes and make notes and wait for as long as it takes.
Frank Morgan is a malodorous drunk posing as a private detective in and around the London area and must not be approached by anyone for any reason.