Under Fire

"The Beano King stood empty, all manner of seeds had drifted towards Wednesday and life existed only in the rivulets of...of..."
Shawna looked up from the napkin she was writing on, Lille continued Shawna's train of thought,
"...of yesterdays robotic melody?" Shawna screwed up her nose.
"...robotic melody I like, but not for this poem - it's more like '...of speechless form,'" Shawna said, scribbling it down, seemingly happy. Full stop. Poetry was like the family she never had. A completion. Full circle. A start, middle and end. She'd only experienced a start when Dad walked out and left her to eat rotten meat sandwiches from the fridge. Middle means all that family and job stuff. Right? What about end? Poetry had only happened to her since they ran, and they were still running, until they ended up here. Shawna was eager to move on. Lille shrugged and picked a spot on her arm.

Lille was thirsty and found a cola can, she peered inside, sometimes you have to watch out for cigarette butts. Shawna gazed around the empty Beano King, it had closed at 11pm, the windows were still running with condensation.
“Lille, look at the windows - looks like they’re crying.” Shawna said, so Lille sauntered over to the biggest window and drew a massive smiley that ran immediately like wet mascara.
“There.” Lille said.
"Life always seems to be about running doesn't it? Running from age, running from people, running from..." Shawna paused.
"Yourself?" Lille added.
"I like that." Shawna was pleased, it fits - start, middle and end. The Beano King sign swung outside in the breeze, the big eye looked like it was winking.

Under Fire

In some ways it was a shame they’d have to burn the place down, but Shawna insisted - after all - life is start , middle and end, now what Shawna liked about fire is that it could be any one of those…start, middle or end.