Her laughter rose in the night sky to greet the screeching gulls. They looked down at her and stretched out their necks approvingly. Wisps of sea fret coated their white wings and her dark hair. The yellow of a Victorian street lamp portrayed her face in profile, the ring on her nose a halo in miniature.
‘Why me?’ he said.
She laughed again, tied her hair back, dropped both hands to the barrel strapped by her side and caressed its steel touch.
‘Allow me to talk.’ He shifted his weight along the iron railing, the dog lead wrapped around his bony wrist. Bullseye, moments earlier, had darted into darkness. ‘This is no way to solve your grievance.’
She raised the barrel and levelled it. The dog lead flew up in self-defence, almost tipping its holder off balance.
‘Please, give an old man a
