Do you know the road from here to there?

The one with the bakery on the left? I think I do-and?

You see, that’s where she died.

She? Tell me.

She was their daughter,

They must be heartbroken.

-And she was her mother:

She must cry herself to sleep every night,

She was entirely too dependent on her;

Oh, she was his wife too, you know?

Then the bastard must be drinking himself to the grave he deserves;

The fool.

She took that red bus every morning;

I know, I’ve seen her around-

She was a teacher, wasn’t she?

Well, that’s another bunch of hearts she broke.

She went grocery shopping once a month, er-

At the little supermarket round the corner?

Ah, yes, and she owned that damaged cell phone,

The one she kept saying she wanted to replace.

I think she struggled with punctuality: the whole lot of them, I believe

I’ve seen them coming in to church late.

Not a God-fearing family then, I suppose?

Perhaps not.

Her daughter is pretty

-a little too pretty, I’d say,

I’ve seen her talking to boys at the bus stop.

Really? Her?

I’m certain.

I see.

Care for another drink, mate?

I don’t see why not.

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