Turning a blind eye
One-fifty to the gram. The stuff was a rip-off.
But not to him. For a dealer, the money is money.
It does its job.
He shouted an order to keep the coke safe to the figure on the couch.
He called this out, and departed. It was safe with Daniel.
He was reading Shakespeare, eating an apple.
He was a dependable guy. A good chap, just like his father.
The door slammed shut.
Danny sprung to his feet. Dad wasn’t home.
Time for some mayhem. Pissing in Dad’s coffee was a laugh
But something different this time.
Where was the fun if no one noticed?
Yeah. Something bigger.
Excitement rushed through him.
The dealer strolled back in at nine.
Ten more customers today. Maybe even more tomorrow.
But he never even noticed the missing coke.
Nor the broken window.
Nor the copy of Macbeth on the couch.
Nor the half-eaten apple rotting to its core.
by Vinay Patel