She’s always there. The pain in her voice elongating her unsteady words. ‘Biggggg Issueeeeee’ she’ll suggest to each person as the first push of fresh-air excitedly licks them in the face on exiting the Galleries Shopping Centre. Occasionally someone might stop and buy a magazine, hand over some change, or gift a cigarette. But mostly it’s eyes down and apologetic grunting; maybe a slight extra push on the heels to help the guilt melt away that little bit quicker. Except with me it’s different: when I walk past not a word – stony lost silence. It’s not that she’s taken offense to anything I’ve said or done. I’ve never reacted to her or had a reaction from her. Her eyes always look so far through me: a stare that may just circumnavigate the entire Earth. I should be grateful than I don’t have to posture an embarrassed refusal to her sales request, but I feel singled-out - soulless in the centre of Bristol. And it’s not just once. I’ve actually done a circuit - gone back into the centre...
Contains mild peril