Mrs Gusset Werribee solemnly queues for the 140 Bus to Browns Plains. Meekly taking her place she is committed to focusing on the white perfect tiles. Her head pops with clicks and buzzes. The flue did this, clogging her mind. That explained the trio of gold orbs winking in and out of her field of vision. Of course it did, a brain tumour would be attention seeking.
Her Doctor who dutifully issued valium and antibiotics noted “She was easily startled.” She avoids the vulpine eyes of the young man leaning against a wall, her grip on her bag tightens ever so slightly. Mrs Carruthers had said it wasn’t banks or service stations but ladies who had never even harmed a fly that were now preferred targets.
The queue stretched past the brightly lit entry to the Coles Supermarket. She sees an old couple patiently removing items from…
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