Nobody's Hero

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Struggling to shift away from the damp patch sticking to the small of her back, Sandra Middlemass wrinkled her nose. With the benefit of hindsight, opening the window would have been a good idea. Even the waves of pollution rising up from the thousands of vehicles making their way along the road outside would have been an improvement on the fetid atmosphere inside the room.

From the other side of the thin glass, the relentless hum of early evening traffic rumbling past at six miles an hour was suddenly interrupted by a series of screaming police sirens trying to force their way through the capital’s near-gridlock.

‘Ugh.’ With his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, the fat man half-pushed himself up as he gave a nervous glance towards the window.

The idiot thinks they’re coming for him, Sandra thought, feeling him beginning to soften inside her. As if. Scratching her nose, she watched the guy struggle to put his tongue back in his mouth. Who was he? She tried to remember the name. Steve something or other.

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