‘There’s been another one, Sir.’
‘Constable Grant.’ Inspector Butler can tell by the cloying foot spray that doesn’t quite cover the stench of the man’s feet. Butler looks up from the wall of text he’s been struggling through for the last hour, speckles dancing before his eyes like snowflakes. ‘Another what? Do stop talking like we’re in an episode of Columbo.’
Grant chews his lip before continuing. ‘Another fire. By the roadworks on Cannon Street. A teenage boy this time. The Mum’s in hospital with burnt hands …’
… From trying to put out the flames.
Not snowflakes. Feathers of ash.
Written for Sonya at Only 100 Word’s Three Line Tales. See the photo and write some lines to go with it.
When I saw this picture, I was reminded of a story called Scorched Carpet and Ash Filled Shoes that I wrote for Roger Shipp’s FFftPP a few weeks ago and thought I’d revisit Butler and Grant to see how they’r getting on. Badly, it seems.