He leaned forward in his chair:
“It’s kinda like a favourite book.
One you pick up from the shelf,
look at the pretty pictures,
enjoy the charming end
and then put back
knowing it’s not your story –
it’s just a story.
Well, that’s how it was for me.
Before the injunction.
I’d watch quietly from a parked car.
Take a photo or two.
Never trouble her.
Just took an interest;
liked to see a new outfit.
Or what she’d choose
if the weather changed.
Ok, I rang a few times
just to hear her say ‘hello’.
Her voice is so sweet, you know?
Kinda trembly when she
answers the phone.
I didn’t say anything,
just hung up –
figured she’d think it was a wrong number.
Of course it freaked her out.
Stupid of me really.
She called the police,
they traced the call to me,
and that’s it: deep shit.
So now I keep away from that part of town.
Don’t call, don’t write.
She’s got her Facebook set to super private.
La di da.
She thinks I can’t see.
But I’m pretty smart, it’s a game to me.
So I found a way. I knew her mum’s email.
Guessed her Facebook password.
She’s got two kids
and a black cat called Mr Tibbs.
Too easy really.
Her Christmas photos were sweet.
She looked so pretty in that jumper
– and she’s always looked good in jeans.
I could imagine being there.
“Another scotch Larry? Don’t mind if I do!
Chocolates? Well, why not?”
TV. Scrabble. Twister perhaps? Mmm…
So like I say, just a little voyeurism.
Doesn’t really hurt. Remote viewing.
Ah, too remote sadly.
Still, there’s a lot of darkness this time of year,
a lot of darkness…”