I think it might have been Lenny. He left just before they say it happened. When he got back, which was much later, he was pretty agitated. I asked him if he was OK and he snapped at me about why I was still up, even though I wasn’t still up at all because it was morning by then and I had to be at Dr Francis’s early.
The Doctor said I was doing well. I thought maybe I should tell her about Lenny but I knew she’d only worry.
I didn’t see Lenny for maybe a couple of days after that.
That’s not so unusual because Lenny’s not the sociable kind.
The papers say there’s a manhunt on. Lenny won’t talk about it even though that’s all anyone in town wants to talk about. It’s a big deal in a place like this. The cops are onto it, and the papers are onto it and the mayor’s onto it in the papers and at the pub everyone’s onto it as if they’re all vigilante heroes. They’re gonna get that guy and they’re going to do this and do that and they’re going to teach him a lesson and they’re going to send a message. Then they’ll all get drunk about it.
And the girls in town are onto it too and they’re all around in whispering groups and crying and stuff. Like I said everyone’s onto it.
And I think it might have been Lenny. I found her bag in Lenny’s washing, because I do all the washing for Lenny and me. His stuff is mostly black or camouflage like a soldier. I think maybe I better talk to him ’cause I’m pretty sure it was him.
small stories about love 